


Written in the Stars

by Mellyrian



Category: Green Rider Series - Kristen Britain
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellyrian/pseuds/Mellyrian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroes come and go, but there is a reason legends never die. Post Blackveil (book 4):  Karigan x Sevelon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written in the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the reference to Sevelon, pages 52-53, in Book 1 of the Green Rider Series. In the books, the god-like being Sevelon is depicted as female in Sacoridia and male in Rhovanny. For the purposes of this story, I’m making the character a male.
> 
> Disclaimer(s): Please forgive my bad grammar and muddled sentence structure, I am without a Beta. All of these characters belong to Kristen Britain.

o*o*o*o*o*o*oo*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o

            

 

Photograph Courtesy Of:  NASA, ESA, R., F. Paresce, E. Young, the WFC3 Science Oversight Committee, and the Hubble Heritage Team

 

**Prologue**

**“When the legends die, the dreams end; there is no more greatness.”—Tecumseh**

The boy and his grandmother sit facing each other. From her chair, she points out the window, “You see those stars?”

His young eyes following the path of her wrinkled fingers. The boy nods, “Jake, my tutor, says it’s the Sword of Sevelon. A constellation I think.”

She smiled at her youngest grandson with pride and continued, “It has a great story, one that has greatly affected our land and people.”

She is a minstrel and telling stories is one of her greatest passions. There is one story in particular she always tells to children, in the hopes that they will one day pass it along to their children. Perhaps the most important tale of this age, its heroes deserved to be remembered; remembered as legends for as long as this land existed.

The minstrel sat in her old rocking chair. When she began her tale, the words came out as a spoken memory. Her melodious voice filled the room and her eyes grew distant, as if she too were lost in the unfolding tale.

“ _As he ascended into the heavens, he threw his sword away for good. He tossed it far and watched it dance through the sky, until it became an asterism of its own. It is the one you see there, seven stars in the shape of a cross. For a thousand years it continued to fall through the never ending space, tip up in the spring and spiraled down in the late fall. It would have continued on this course forever, yet a great darkness had returned to our world. When its power became so great that it no longer was only a threat to our world, but also a danger to the world of the immortals, Aeryc and Aeryon knew they must put a stop to it. They retrieved the sword and gave it back to Sevelon. At first he refused, but the gods gave him little choice. Taking pity on him, Aeryon promised that when this task was complete, Sevelon would be greatly rewarded…_.”

 

 

 

**Chapter 1**

**“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.”—Christopher Reeve**

She awoke to darkness and with the feeling that she had been asleep for years. When she tried to sit up, she cracked her skull against a hard surface that must be directly above her. After the initial shock of pain receded, she felt around and began to get very scared, for she was surrounded by stone. Afraid for her air supply, she frantically tried to move the stones which trapped her. Grunting with effort, she wedged her shoulder and tried to lift with her whole body. Knowing it was useless, she lay back panting. Her arm and leg ached, but the pain seemed like nothing when she realized she may die there.

Thinking back, she tried to recall how she’d gotten herself into this mess. Snapshot memories flashed through her mind, Alton and Estral, hummingbirds, beautiful mosaics and moondials. That triggered it and with a rush everything came back: MOONDIALS, LAURELYN, TAINTED SLEEPERS, and MORNHAVEN. She had thrown the mask at Yate’s feet, just before the world exploded. The last thing Karigan remembered was the sound of massive wings beating the air. “Westrion”, the recognition slipped from her lips without her notice. She didn’t know why she was so sure, but the truth of it reverberated through her entire being.  The God of Death had put her in this place.

It was odd. This didn’t feel like death, but would she really know? All she had to go on were her visits with the dead, and she had never asked Lil, Fryan or the other specters how it felt to be dead. Well, if she was not dead, she was probably stuck in some in-between place. She stroked her broach for comfort, only to recall Laurelyn’s words, “ _ability to cross thresholds_ ”.

Maybe, just maybe, she could try it…Without pausing to doubt her new plan, Karigan gripped her broach until she could feel its surface digging into her skin and focused all of her might on getting through the barrier in front of her. When she touched the surface of the stone, she was surprised she didn’t feel its smooth surface, but that her hand had actually passed through and felt only chill air. Afraid it would suddenly stop working, she thrust herself up. Karigan stood, desperate to be free of her prison, only to find her eyes painfully blinded and her legs tripping over some obstacle. Stumbling out of the stone, she had to crouch to get her bearings. Short grass lay wet and smooth under her hands and she let her fingers curl around the soft blades.

When she started to breathe again, she noticed a fragrance in the air. She hadn’t smelled something so sweet since she’d left the castle. Automatically alert and thinking some lady must be very near if the perfume was reaching Karigan’s nose. Then she started to piece together the sounds; horse hooves against cobblestone, a young woman’s laughter, and a blade hitting wood. It was outside. A public place.

She peeked open her eyes and eventually the brightness faded to reveal green leaves and thorns. The fragrance belonged not to a woman, but to a rose bush. Still crouched, Karigan surveyed her surroundings. It was a secluded grove with a perimeter of rose bushes that was only interrupted at the metal gate leading towards the noise. In the middle lay a milky white stone tablet.

Careful not to touch the thing that had trapped her, she leaned over to see the surface’s shallow engraving. The markings were rustic, but she was able to make out the image of a sword, and it seemed to be intertwined with words. She couldn’t read what they said; she had never seen such a language. Even though the tablet was milky white and hardly weathered, Karigan had the feeling that she was looking at something very old. Looking at the thing made her spine tingle and for a moment she wondered if it acted as a kind of gateway, such as the bridges in the white world.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, she turned away.

When Karigan found what was behind the wall of roses, she had to snort. Westrion had placed her in a graveyard. It was fitting, but she didn’t know whether to feel amused or dismayed. She wondered at the god’s role, but decided she probably didn’t want to know.

She was relieved when she stepped into a street full of people, being surrounded by the noise and activity made her feel less connected to death. People meandered through the small market square. A woman yelled that she’d reduced the price of her wares. A man stood in front of a butchery, methodically cutting up meat. The woman and others she heard talking had distinct accents and Karigan realized she was in Rhovanny.

Her theory was confirmed by all the strange looks she was getting. In Rhovanny, women were not allowed to fight or handle swords. Just coming from Blackveil, Karigan could imagine what she now looked like. A woman walking around, blade at hip, disheveled hair and blood soaked clothes. Her arm was still bound with Eletian arrows and her leg was stiff and sore. People gaped at her and moved away to avoid her, as if they didn’t want to come too close. 

Karigan didn’t embarrass easily, but she was tired and she just wanted to be left alone. She wished no one could see her.

Beside her, a woman gasped. Karigan was confused until she saw herself. She had accidentally faded out. But it wasn’t just faded out. She was standing in broad daylight and she was completely invisible. Oh dear…

This wasn’t within the normal limits of her ability. It wasn’t supposed to be this strong. Now that she thought of it, her escape from the tomb was suspicious as well. In the past, she always needed assistance to perform greater magic. But in the tomb, she had been alone. Hadn’t she? She never would have been able to do that on her own. Was it the god who helped her or something else?

Karigan walked along the street, remaining invisible for the time being so she could think. Ever since she’d woken up, she had felt a dark presence. Karigan had brushed it off earlier, thinking it was just the result of waking up in a grave. Now she was more concerned. Now she stood in full sunlight, amongst normal people, and that same dark presence hadn’t faded. It felt similar to Shawdell’s wild magic, but it had the distinct taint of Mornhaven. When she had shattered the mask, Mornhaven took the brunt of the force. She was close to him at the time. When the world exploded around them, was it possible that some of his magic had attached to her? She shuddered. The idea of being bound to that monster was terrifying.

**Chapter 2**

**“True legends never die”—Unknown**

For the first time in over a thousand years, he opened his eyes.  After lifting the lid to the stone sarcophagus, he frowned. It was too light, and made of real stone. This was not the sarcophagus he’d been given at his death. He should have been in a grove surrounded by his sister’s roses. He had hoped to once again smell their fragrance, since they were one of his only reminders of his family. He hadn’t seen his family in a very long time.

Instead, he found himself surrounded by the grey walls of a stone tunnel. Looking back at the foreign resting place, he analyzed the woman’s effigy craved into the stone. He had seen more beautiful ladies. Her forehead had a large scar that disappeared into her hairline. Her features were strong and defiant.  This is the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Why would Aeryon have Westrion place him here? As if the goddess were giving him an unspoken message or setting up a connected path… He could only wonder at the significance. If he had his way, the gods would explain why they did things, rather than setting up the situation and letting him fend for himself.

It was very like Aeryc and Aeryon to drop him in the middle of a situation. He sometimes wondered if they did this to purposely confuse him. More likely, they just didn’t understand the concept of being confused. As gods, they knew things about the universe and would rarely need explanations on anything, so why would they think he needed explanations either?

Whatever their reasoning, he had learned to cope with their methods long ago. No matter what task they’d given him, Sevelon always did their bidding. Although, he was the one who decided how it should be done. Occasionally, he would dispense with their justice in ways strategically designed to benefit certain mortals.

After returning the sarcophagus lid to its original place, he used a minor thread of power to wrap the light around his body until it covered him like a blanket. Assured that no one would notice his intrusion, he walked towards the end of the tunnel. This light bending was one of his favorite tricks, because it allowed him to go unseen by mortals (who were notorious for only seeing with their eyes, very foolish indeed).

After passing several corridors, he saw a small man huddled over a breast plate. The little man rubbed the metal vigorously in an effort to make it shine. He was so focused on his task, he wouldn’t even notice a common intruder in these deep halls.

Everywhere in these tombs, Sevelon found similar workers. They were all focused on their work and must not have a drop of magic in their blood, for none of them even noticed there was magic being used nearby. Even the guards dressed in black, who seemed competent enough, didn’t notice his presence. Surely someone would notice the force that was passing them. If he had been hoping for such a confrontation, he would have been sorely disappointed. Once he followed the off-duty guards to the castle above the tombs, he found little more magic in the population above ground.

During his lifetime, magic had been abundant. You couldn’t sneeze without getting it up your nose. This abundance allowed for a high percentage of magic users within the population. It was so common; almost every family had at least one member with some minor gift. Now he was here, in a world bereft of that power source. Magic was supposed to flow from all living things. He felt wrong-footed, being surrounded by so many who lacked the most elemental part of this world.

Beyond their lack of skill in the arts, their language had much evolved since the last time he had visited this land. His life in the immortal realm seemed like mere years, but it appears he had been away from this world for much longer than he had realized. 

Unseen by all, he walked through the castle gathering information about the situation. Some of the gossip he heard was interesting, but not useful. In his experience, it was an operation’s leader who had the most complete picture of his operation. It was only natural to search out the modern day monarch. He had started searching, when he came upon a grand hall. The King and Queen were seated upon a dais, with a line of commoners waiting. Using his light bending trick, he made his way to stand between the King and a green uniformed officer.

The officer was the first person he’d come in contact with that had any skill in the arts. Her gift was minor, but it was an improvement to every other person he’d seen. Her magic seemed to be channeled through a broach pinned to her chest. Sometimes she would touch it and lean over to her monarch, to tell him if someone spoke falsehood. Sevelon understood how such a person would be useful to the king. Kings were surrounded by political intrigue and constantly had to be on the lookout for liars.

The king himself seemed attentive to everyone who came in front of him with their complaints. This man was someone who truly cared for his people. Sevelon approved.

 

 

 

**Chapter 3**

**“Life has no smooth road for any of us; and in the bracing atmosphere of a high aim the very roughness stimulates the climber to steadier steps, till the legend, over steep ways to the stars, fulfills itself.”—William Doane**

Bonewood staff in hand, Karigan had left the town walking east. Because of the hilly terrain, she knew she was close to the Sacoridian border. There she’d find a guard station where she could seek help with the King’s men. Ignoring the grumbling in her stomach, she kept a good pace. She had no money to buy food, let alone a horse. At first this didn’t overly bother Karigan, who was now accustomed to walking long distances with a bad leg and little rations.

After several hours, Karigan’s endurance was beginning to wan and she had to rest often due to the pain in her leg. She was still determined to make good time, but she needed food and maybe a place to sleep. By the time she came to another Rhovan village, she was exhausted. Still, she had to be cautious. It was too risky to go walking about casually, for she had no idea “ _when”_ it was or what had happened since she’d left on the Spring Equinox. Judging by the dry grasslands and the heat, she’d guess it was late summer. There could be many new dangers that she was unaware of. As she approached the small cluster of buildings, she turned her invisibility back on. She was relieved to see that as before, she’d faded into complete invisibility.

The town was small, with only a few shops to service the local population. She passed several people on the street. No one glanced her way. She was about to sneak into the inn when something caught her eye. The man who just passed her, there was something about his hand. It seemed familiar. Wasn’t it a black tree, almost like the one worn by Weldon Spurlock? The thought of Second Empire made her frantic, could they be here? Of course they could be. Hadn’t Spurlock bragged that they were in every layer of society, placed in every city. Forgetting about her hunger and fatigue, she followed the man. She had little choice; it was her duty to Sacoridia and its King. As she tailed him, she took the chance to observe his behavior. He kept glancing around as if paranoid someone might see him.

She kept pace with him as he went inside a private stable. He walked to a doorway on the far side of the wall. Afraid she’d lose him, she stepped inside the room before he could shut the door. The space was tighter than expected and she had to stop quickly before running into someone’s broad back.  Inside was a group of seven men and what she heard was distressing.

“Birch is on his way now.”

“So the monarchs have agreed to meet with him?”

A tall, bald man nodded, “They can’t afford not to. When we win, Rhovanny will be at our mercy. They’d rather make a deal with us and avoid becoming our next targets.”

The man closest to her said, “Right,” and suddenly turned. She didn’t have the time or extra space to avoid him and he barreled into her. Pushed back, Karigan’s head slammed against the hard wall. She slid to the ground in a daze, unaware her invisibility had dropped. There were yells of shock and anger.

A deep voice yelled, “Quiet, you fools!”

“I recognize this woman. She’s the daughter of Stevic G’ladheon.”

Karigan didn’t know who was talking, neither did she recognize the faces of anyone present. Apparently, the speaker knew her.

“She serves the king,” he spat, “probably sent here as a spy.”

Someone grabbed her shoulder and bodily threw her to the center of the floor.

She tried to sit up, but was pushed back to the ground and kicked. There was a crack and sharp pain shot through her ribs. Then, she was picked up and shoved against the wall. She tried to kick and hit the man, but had to stop when he blocked her wind pipe with his arm. The pressure was sharp and Karigan futilely tried to suck in air.

The man’s breath was hot against her face, “Oh Galadheon, we’ve heard about you. You’ve lived up to your last name, Betrayer of Lord Mornhaven.” He shook his head, “Sickening, how you could turn on your own people. Your family is one of only two noble lines that are still alive, and still you grovel at the feet of the petty Sacoridian King.”

What was he talking about? Arcosian nobility? Her head hurt. She was sick of this, sick of being man-handled, and sick of playing by other people’s rules.

Using a trick of Drent’s, she loosened her arm and slammed her elbow in the man’s face. He backed up, and touched his nose, his fingers came away bloody. His gaze lifted from those fingers and Karigan knew she was in trouble.

She just wanted to go home. She wanted to ride Condor. She wanted to see her friends. She wanted to be a normal messenger again. The man was coming at her, fist raised. She wasn’t sure how it would help, but Karigan instinctively grabbed her broach, as if that could protect her from his beating. She closed her eyes. She wanted to be standing in front of Captain Mapstone, giving her report. She wanted…

Hoof beats roared in her head and heart. She had expected to be hit by the man’s hard fist. Instead, she was pulled by her broach into the familiar sensation of travelling.

She opened her eyes. Things were rushing past her. It was similar to the Wild Ride, but this time there were no ghosts. She saw towns, forests, roads, the Grandgent River, the far-reaching Green Cloak. Then there was Childrey, followed by the village outside Sacor City. This was a different kind of travelling than she was used to.

Her broach was taking her home.

When she entered the castle, she almost cried with relief. She passed the outbuildings, the guards, the servants and then she was passing courtiers in the throne room. She let go of her broach. With an audible suction sound, she dropped back into the normal world. Disoriented, she fell to her knees at the foot of the dais.

She looked up to see the shocked faces of Zachary, Estora and Captain Mapstone. In front of them stood a tall man she had never seen. Before she was able to say anything, exhaustion overwhelmed her and everything went black.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o

 

The petitioners had just been dismissed for the day, when he felt a big amount of magic approaching. Alert for anything, he stepped forward, prepared to protect this king who seemed to care so much for his people. If only every monarch cared half as much, the world would fare much better. So Sevelon stood, an invisible protector against the fast approaching threat.

It was a woman, becoming more and more visible as she entered this layer of the world. She stopped at the foot of the dais stairs. She looked in a state of shock, as if she didn’t register where she was. Then she collapsed.

The throne room was silent as if all the mortals were taking a breath to process this new development. Then the king rushed forward. He was closely followed by the queen and several attendants. Interesting, the monarchs obviously care for this woman, but they are confused at her presence.

It was also interesting that none of them were afraid of her. None of them were acting wary; they must not feel the dark presence that surrounds this person. There was a certain brightness to her soul, but she was irrevocably tied to something sinister. Sevelon tilted his head to examine her further.

He watched as they turned her over. Her clothes were torn and dirty, her skin bruised and judging by the mud in her tangled hair, he suspected it had been quite some time since she’d last bathed. Her arm was broken, but held together by cloth and shafts of moonarrows. He sensed that one of her ribs was cracked. There was also an infection in her leg. Her lips looked very red against pale skin that hadn’t seen sunlight in months. Even half dead with exhaustion, her features were strong and resilient.

Since his arrival in Sacor City, he’d seen little more magic than card tricks. Finally, he was presented with an example of stronger power. He wasn’t sure if that strong power was hers or if it was that sinister thing connected to her.

Indeed, the woman’s appearance was very curious and Sevelon found himself following as they took her away.  

**Chapter 4**

**“Subtle and insubstantial, the expert leaves no trace; divinely mysterious, he is inaudible. Thus he is master of his enemy’s fate.”—Art of War, Sun Tzu**

He was in her room at the hospital wing. When they first brought her in, there had been a flurry of activity, but that soon died down. It was only when he examined her face up close that he realized who she was. Lying down with hair spread out on the pillow, she was almost a perfect replica of the sarcophagus carving.

He knew she wouldn’t wake until the next day, but he could wait. One of the healers, also in a green uniform, had some small healing powers, but they were sufficient to fix most of the damage. As night came on, all activity in the room ceased and Sevelon was left alone with the unconscious woman. At noon the next day, she was beginning to stir and the mender sent a messenger off to inform the King.

The mender bustled around the room and didn’t notice when the woman’s eyelids fluttered open. Sleep still fogging her eyes, she looked at the mender. Her eyes followed the man’s movements for a moment and then they turned toward Sevelon.

“Who are you?” It was more of a question than a demand.

The mender came to her side, “What did you say my dear?”

“Not you. Him,” She pointed past the healer and indicated the room’s third occupant. Sevelon didn’t surprise easily, but her ability to see him had shocked him into stillness. She had more power than those green uniformed people, but nothing of the strength that should be necessary to see past his light bending trick. Few could see through it and most of them were other immortals.

The mender looked around, but didn’t see anyone. He tutted, “That infection was worse than we thought. If you’re seeing things, you might have been stung by the same bugs as your fellow rider when he fell over the wall a couple years ago. Poor lad, it was a terrible experience for him; from what I hear, he from suffered hallucinations for weeks.”

The woman’s voice was stiff, “I’m not hallucinating. It must have been something in my eye.”

The mender just shrugged his shoulders and went back to work.

She didn’t say anything else, but she would look at the stranger every now and again.

It was good the room was sizable, because when the King and Queen arrived, they brought the green uniformed officer and a several scribes with them. Apparently, they wanted detailed notes for whatever the rider would say. 

The woman’s tale did not disappoint. Sevelon listened with rapt attention. Her report was the single most informative conversation he’d overheard since arriving in this city. She spoke of a dark forest and its mutated creatures. That was how she’d gotten the leg infection. She went on to describe a city of light and he immediately knew she spoke of Argenthyne. Hearing of its demise and of Laurelyn’s final stand was sobering. He had walked those winding streets with Laurelyn. The absence of both Argenthyne and its queen was undoubtedly the reason why the world’s magic was fading.

The pure brightness to the woman’s soul now made sense. She was connected to Laurelyn. That is why she remained untainted by the dark presence, even though it surrounded her.

Every time the name Mornhaven was spoken aloud, the dark presence around her vibrated in an effort to harmonize with the name. As Sevelon listened to the rest of the story, he observed the darkness. In its simplest form, it was elemental magic. Though he suspected it was augmented and driven by a piece of this Mornhaven fellow. It wasn’t a sentient piece, but it still had urges and power; similar to a limb that keeps twitching, although it has been severed from the main body.

Sevelon looked at this woman. Karigan, the king had called her. The dark presence surrounding her would never be able to corrupt the brightness within. Yet the dark presence could be perilously hazardous. If she were near Mornhaven when Sevelon destroyed his soul, then it was very likely that she would die as well.

Karigan’s tale took several hours. It would have gone quicker, but she kept having to stop and explain things. By the time everything was clarified, the King’s clerks had overflowing manuscripts and Karigan looked ready to pass out.

Before everyone vacated the room, the green uniformed officer set a fresh green uniform on the bedside table. The red haired woman grasped Karigan’s hand and informed her, “For whenever Ben allows you out.” She smiled, “Welcome home rider. You’ve been missed.”

“Thanks Captain.”

Sevelon studied the outfit and an idea began to formulate in his mind.

 

 

**Chapter 5**

**“If I’m such a legend, then why am I so lonely? Let me tell you, legends are all very well if you’ve got somebody around who loves you.”—Judy Garland**

It had been only two days since she’d been released from the hospital wing and Karigan had three times been called in front of the King and Estora (who was now Queen, she had to remind herself). Each time, they went over the details of what happened in Blackveil. They asked about the strange animals. They wanted to clarify what happened with the sundial and Laurelyn. They questioned her about the sleepers and Mornhaven’s attack. They wanted to know how the Eletians responded to it all. They asked who survived, and once again, she had to tell them that she’d no idea if there were ANY other survivors. It was indeed late summer and she was the first to return, if any of her friends had survived, then they’d been delayed just as she had. They also wanted to know how she’d gotten back. She told them what she could, but even she didn’t fully understand why her broach was working so much better.

She didn’t tell them about the darkness that surrounded her. It was too personal and didn’t seem to be having any ill effects, other than increasing the range of her special ability. Though she still had her suspicions that it was connected to Mornhaven, she didn’t want to tell them until she was certain.

After the third such meeting, Karigan needed to get away from the castle. Seeing Zachary and Estora as a married couple was just too uncomfortable and she was too unsure of her own feelings.

She wished she could go see Condor, besides Estral, he was her best friend and she missed the companionship he’d always offered. Captain Mapstone had sent a messenger to retrieve Condor from the wall, but it would be days before he arrived. Unable to spend time with her horse, she found herself wandering the windy streets of Sacor City. When the skies darkened and it started to rain, she stopped for shelter in a tavern. It had a fire blazing in the corner and was classier than the Cock & Hen, so she decided to stay and have a drink. The foul weather continued and one drink turned into two. Before she knew it, she was feeling a pleasant buzz. She wasn’t the type to drink away her worries, but at the moment it felt so good.

It was probably because she was tired and already in a bad mood, but this last meeting with the King and Queen had left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Each time she had to tell of her experiences, Karigan noticed the awe on Zachary’s face and the contrasting glint of jealousy that would sometimes peak out of Estora. As she drank, she couldn’t help but laugh at how ingenuous (or perhaps inconsequential was a better term) their behavior seemed. Estora’s look of jealousy was almost unbelievable to Karigan, who felt more traumatized than lucky. The Queen had everything that she could want and at the moment Karigan couldn’t imagine how the other woman could envy such a rough and dangerous life.

Thinking about the situation made Karigan feel a bit spiteful. She seemed to be in constant danger from a millennia-old-mad-man and his followers. These same people would probably take her life sometime in the near future and when she died, she would die an unloved maid! Karigan didn’t really care if she died without the experience of making love. What did bother her was the idea that she would die, without the chance to love someone and have them freely and openly love her back.

When she’d gotten to this revelation, she decided she was drunk enough and should make her way to the castle before she was too gone to find her own bed. The thought of accidentally stumbling into someone else’s room, such as Yates’, when she was in such a state made her giggle. Her laughter was allowed to continue until she walked out into the cold street and remembered she was never going to see Yates again. The realization that she was back in Sacor City and would never see her friend again was very sobering. After that, she managed to walk up the King’s Way without stumbling overmuch.

At one point, near Master Gruntler’s Sweet Shop, she thought she saw Yates. The sight of his green hued face made her come up short. Her stomach dropped when she realized it might be his ghost. He tried to talk, but no sound came out. She imagined him saying, “It will all be over soon, don’t worry.” Then he disappeared as if he had never been there at all.

She stood there starring at the spot he had just occupied. Was that real? It very well might be, considering her history with talkative ghosts. But then again, she was feeling so guilty at the moment for having killed him that her mind might have conjured him up. And she was pretty drunk.

When it started raining again, she decided to stop deliberating and just go home. Her mind was so fuzzy at the moment she wasn’t fit for anything more than sleeping. By the time she reached her room, she had just enough energy to pull off her wet clothes and crawl into her bed.

 

o*o*o*o*o

 

She awoke to the smell of eggs and fruit potage. Peaking open an eye, she was able to see two girls sitting next to her bed, chatting amiably over their breakfasts.

The sight of a third platter of steaming food gave her the motivation to sit up and welcome her guests.

“I would ask why you’re in my room, but I’m hungry.”

At this, Mara and Tegan laughed. “Oh we heard you didn’t get back until late and figured you might need some strength to deal with the headache.” Tegan answered.

Eyes teasing, Mara added, “Can’t handle strong ale can you?” All the riders knew how Mara preferred to spend time at the Cock & Hen, a notoriously scummy tavern that only served strong, dark bitters.

She didn’t want to think about last night and turned the conversation to a different subject, “What happened when I was gone?”

They kept her occupied with the Castle’s gossip until mid-morning. Promising to talk in the next few days, her friends left. Before closing the door, Mara seemed to remember something and popped her head back in.

“These are the letters you received while away. Captain Mapstone says to relax this morning and to meet her in the Officer’s Building at the lunch hour.” She placed the stack of envelopes on the dresser. “Oh and Karigan?”

She smiled, “Ya?”

“I’m happy to have my friend back.” With that she slipped out of the door.

The letters were as welcoming as Mara’s comment. Not only had she received several letters from her family, but she had received a whole stack from Estral and Alton. At first she wasn’t sure how to feel, but after the first letter, she felt her insides warming. She had missed her friends. She had been foolish for not saying goodbye. She could have died, or they could have died. She silently vowed never to let her pride get in the way of such friendship again.

Immediately she wrote a letter to her father, telling him that she had just returned from a long message errand (no need to tell him where it was). Then she wrote two more to Alton and Estral (there had been something really concerning in the last letter she read from them, something about Estral losing her voice, it gave Karigan a bad feeling and she wanted to make sure they were alright).

She had just finished when she heard the church bell tolling noon. It was time to dress and meet Captain Mapstone. Quickly, she looked through her closet. Seeing all her clothing hanging there seemed reminiscent of an old lifetime. It was all so ordinary, as if it belonged to a normal green rider. She loved it.

She had to rush so she wouldn’t be late and was slightly breathless when she knocked on Captain Mapstone’s office door.

“Take a seat.” When Karigan obliged, the Captain continued, “I’ve decided that Daro should keep doing the rider accounts for now.”

What a relief! “Great.”

“I thought you’d like that.” The captain replied. “How are you adjusting with being back?”

Karigan looked at her Captain. She suspected the older woman knew how rough the last few days had been. Answering truthfully, she admitted, “It’s all a bit of a shock to be honest, but it has been wonderful seeing the other riders.”

The Captain was about to say something, when someone knocked on the door.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

Sevelon stood outside the door and made sure to have a dazed look on his face. Within the past week, he had seen several new riders and knew how to act.

That fireball of a Captain opened the door and welcomed him in. The Karigan woman was sitting in the chair. Perfect!

“Can I help you?”

He turned to her and dropped his voice to sound drowsy. “I keep hearing hoof beats.” He had to make an effort not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, but that is what the other new riders had said, so he went along with it. It still didn’t sound all that convincing to his own ears. He’d have to work harder at this.

“What’s your name?”

He decided on just giving a shortened version of his real name. “Sev,” he replied and looked around the office, as if only just realizing where he was.

“Surname?” She asked inquiringly.

“Don’t have one.” He knew her ability was to read falsehoods, but this was completely honest, in the time that he had been born, the land was not so crawling with people that they needed to assign second names. He had been called various things that referred to his skill with the blade, but those were hard to translate and would probably just make him stick out.

The Captain just nodded and went to search for something in her cabinet; she didn’t seem to notice anything afoot. However, the younger woman was staring at him openly, no doubt she recognized him from that day in the hospital wing.

When the captain held out a box of those brass magic tricks, he hesitated. He had to make this look convincing, while also convincing the broaches to let him touch them. They were not complicated pieces of work, but like all objects of power, they did have their own mind about who they allowed to handle them. So he held his hand over the chest so they could get a sense of who he was, and then he asked if he could borrow one of them.

They were hesitant at first, but eventually decided they liked the way his power felt. It was very obvious that he wasn’t a user of the darker arcane arts, so they allowed him to pick one of the broaches from the top. Once in his hand, the little thing introduced itself and told Sevelon what its gift was: levitation of objects. He supposed it could come in handy. If he let loose some power and needed to explain, he would just blame it on the broach and say it was part of his gift. As long as he didn’t do anything too flashy, none of the riders would ever question him.

He turned his attention to the woman sitting in the chair. Now that she was healed, he noticed some differences between the sarcophagus carving and how she looked in real life. She still had strong features, but there was a softness about her that the craftsman had failed to portray. There was a faint scar on her forehead, but it was barely noticeable, and the white streak of hair made her look remarkable. He doubted many would forget her once they’d seen her. There was clearly strength to her, which was apparent just by feeling her energy signature. She had more power than any other person he had seen in this city, albeit, not the true power of immortals, but she had definitely channeled some very strong work.

He was able to register all of this merely by being in her proximity and looking into her eyes for a few seconds. When he turned back to Captain Mapstone, it was obvious the older woman had not missed the intensity of the silent interaction. There was a certain light in her eyes and Sevelon knew the middle-aged woman had just misinterpreted the situation. Nonetheless, he’d let her think what she would. It might prove to his advantage, or in the least give him a noteworthy reason to follow this Karigan woman around.

“Karigan, you have practice with Drent this afternoon at the fourth hour, in the meantime, why don’t you show our new rider around?”

Clearly being dismissed, the rider just nodded and beckoned for him to follow as she walked out the door.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

Her brain really must be conjuring up ghosts. She had seen this man in the hospital wing. Captain Mapstone hadn’t recognized him, so either he hadn’t really been there at her sick bed or he was very good at making himself invisible. But then why would he have been invisible to the others and not to her? Was it her special ability that allowed her to see him? These days, she seemed to have more questions than answers.

Whatever the reason, Karigan suspected this was not the average new rider. First of all, he was the oldest new rider Karigan had ever seen. It was hard to give him a certain age, but by the way he observed things and reacted (mainly calm and detached), she would bet he was older than most of the riders, except Connly and the Captain. 

First, she took him to the Quarter Master to get him loaded up with Uniforms and then she led him to the Rider’s Wing. The corridor was still dark and slightly musty, but it was so much more alive now the riders inhabited the space. She led him to one of the rooms she knew to be empty and told him to drop his stuff off. Her stomach had been growling since they picked up the uniforms and she decided she might as well show him where the kitchens were located.

He was so quiet, that she had almost forgotten he was following her. Once she got food, she sat down at a table full of weapons, not even thinking how uncomfortable this would make the new rider. He however, sat down and started eating as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A couple looks were thrown his way, but the weapons apparently accepted that he was with her.

Fastion eventually elbowed her. “I don’t recognize your shadow.”

This stunned Karigan. If the weapons hadn’t noticed Sev, then maybe he really could be invisible. Or maybe she had just imagined him.

For another thing, it was interesting that Fastion called him a “shadow”. This man’s subdued and slightly lethal persona certainly made him look much more like a weapon than a green rider. To answer the weapon’s question, she volunteered, “His name’s Sev, he’s our newest rider.”

“You move like a fighter.” One of the weapons said and the table went still to watch how the new guy would respond. They had all noticed the same thing.

Sev sat back, unfazed by the attention, or maybe unaware of just who he was talking to. “I learned to use the sword at a young age.”

Fastion was studying this new man. The image reminded Karigan of a protective older brother, “You should come practice with us sometime.”

Now Karigan was alert and starring at Fastion. Had he just challenged her new rider? Certainly he didn’t feel threatened; Fastion wasn’t the type to get in cock fights. No, it was more likely he just wanted to see what this new person could do. His job was to protect the King; it made sense for him to scan anyone who they’d deemed a “fighter”.

 

o*o*o*o*o

 

A few hours later, Karigan made her way out to the practice fields.

Captain Mapstone must have told Drent to take it easy on her, because when Karigan arrived at the field, she saw him waiting with a shoulder pack full of weights. He probably thought he was being nice by giving her a day off from sword practice, but he’d find no reason to let her get out of shape.

Afterwards, she leaned against the fence at the edge of the practice field and tried to massage her calves. She was very trim from all the walking she had been doing, but never before had she run for so long, and with all that weight!

She remembered his exact words being, “Better get used to the distances, because it is apparent you need the conditioning. Your recent journey has shown that you riders are too dependent on your horses.” She inwardly groaned, knowing that future practice sessions were going to be equally as tiring. This was bad and she hadn’t even picked up a sword. The idea of running with big weights and then being beaten by Drent’s sword was not appealing. She looked skeptically at Drent, who was now working with the King.

When her focus shifted to Zachary, she sighed. The memory of their past encounters seemed very distant, which was maybe for the best. After all, Karigan had to remind herself, he was now a married man. In all reality, Karigan had started to give up on him the moment he’d signed that marriage contract to Estora.

These past few years had been painful, because sometimes she felt very lonely. It probably didn’t help that it was her duty to serve the man she used to love, but she always felt so much more at ease when she was away from the Castle. There were only so many things for people to gossip about, and the Estora/Zachary situation was still a favorite topic. Maybe she should beg the Captain for another long message errand, that way she wouldn’t have to sit around here awkwardly. Sometimes, she just wished she could leave it all behind.

Her eyes left the king, she didn’t want to think about how grey his hair was or how tired he looked. It was getting late. Since most of the soldiers had left, the practice fields were relatively quiet. A rich laugh broke up the distant, rhythmic pattern of swords and she looked towards the sound to find a uniformed man sparring with a weapon. Bold, that one. Yet the way he moved belayed his mastery of the sword.

When the fighters broke apart and circled around each other, she was shocked to recognize Sev. So he did come. He was fighting one of the tomb guards. Very interested in how this would play out, Karigan wandered over to join the small audience of other weapons.

He moved with lightning quickness, and almost faster than she could follow, he had his sword pressed against the tomb guard’s neck. “Kill,” He said simply and without a hint of mockery. Then he lowered his sword and raised his hand, “It was a pleasure to spare with someone of such skill.”

All seriousness and respect, the tomb guard accepted Sev’s outstretched hand. 

She saw Fastion walking towards her. When the others started to disperse, he warned, “Be wary of that one, he is much more dangerous than he looks.”

By the time Karigan turned back to the practice ring, another group of weapons were fighting and Sev was already walking up the hill.

She had to trot, but she caught up with him just behind the stables.

She called, “Sev.”

He didn’t stop, so she reached out and tugged his hand. Suddenly, he’d spun around as if ready for an attack. Her hand was suddenly twisted in a vice-like grip. She had to step back, free hand raised in a peaceful motion. In a calming voice she reassured him, “Whoa, I just wanted to ask where you learned to fight like that.”

Seeing it was her, he let go of the hand he had been clenching, ready to break. “My apologies, I was lost in thought and you startled me.”

She flexed her soar hand. Karigan remembered some of the time’s she’d had to sleep with her saber, clutched and ready. “I understand. You’re probably still on edge because you just finished sparring.”

He nodded and allowed her to walk back to the castle with him. 

**Chapter 6**

**“Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.”—Art of War, Sun Tzu**

For the next few weeks, Karigan found herself unusually busy. Because of her standing as Knight of the Realm and because of her most recent experiences, she was now required to attend meetings with Captain Mapstone. Occasionally they would receive reports on Second Empire’s movements, but otherwise these meetings were tiring and dull. Unfortunately for Karigan, King Zachary also attended many of them. Not wanting to talk to him, she had tried to spend as little time with him as possible, however this wasn’t easy because he seemed determined to get her alone. She had already narrowly avoided several encounters with him. His initial awe at discovering she was alive had worn off, and he seemed somehow more driven. He seemed to show up everywhere she went, and she was beginning to wonder if he’d memorized her schedule.

One night, Karigan stepped towards the castle entrance, head tilted to the side as she tried to wring the water from her long hair. Once inside, her boots left large, wet prints on the glossy floor. For days the skies had been gray and threatening with bad weather to come. The storm had finally come that afternoon and with a ferocity that was more characteristic of a coastal monsoon than an inland rain storm. Needless to say, she was soaked and felt chilled to the bone. It had been a frustrating day and she’d like nothing more than a nice, hot bath. So preoccupied with this glorious thought, she didn’t see the person in front of her until she walked right into them. Mumbling an apology, she tried to step away, but strong hands grabbed her just below the waist. She looked up into the amber eyes of the King and with embarrassment and discomfort she realized his gaze was not on her face, but on her body. Trying not to fidget, she stood there shivering and all too aware how her drenched uniform did little to hide her features.

Despite his former attempts, they hadn’t really talked since she came back from Blackveil. They would attend the same meetings, but that was as much interaction as she’d had to suffer. During these affairs, he’d sometimes try to catch her eye, as if he could communicate with his gaze. Lately there had been a change in his behavior. His looks have been getting progressively more intense. A year ago, she might have appreciated such a look from him, but now she felt more like a piece of meat at the butcher’s shop, being eyed to fulfill some personal satisfaction.

He clung to her now, his hands hot and tight on her hips. The tenderness that he used to have in abundance was now absent. The treatment made her angry and she had the urge to hit him. She resisted the urge, but barely. Such a physical assault was inappropriate and would probably get her in big trouble. Her younger self might have committed that kind of rash insubordination, but the current Karigan had more self-control.

Carefully she removed his hands and stepped back. She didn’t think she could say anything polite, not with her anger being so great. Instead, she turned and walked back out into the rain. The wind had picked up again and pebble-sized raindrops pounded into every available surface. Unlike before, she now appreciated the torrential rain, because it would probably deter the king from following her.

With nowhere in particular to go, she headed for the stables. Not for the first time in the past few weeks, she wished she could take refuge in the old Rider Barracks. They used to be a safe haven since they were physically separate from the castle and its politics. After the barracks burned, all the riders were moved inside. Being a castle tenant had its advantages, but it also gave Karigan more exposure to the aristocrats. Her room in the rider wing was her sanctuary, but it was small and gave little reprieve from the looks of fear and awe she received from most people. News of her exploits had spread fast, and it seemed the whole castle knew who she was and what she’d done. She didn’t like the attention. Even her fellow riders seemed to gawk at her a bit more than before. Thankfully, the more senior riders treated her as friendly as ever. It was their company and friendship that made everything else bearable.  

She didn’t feel like she deserved the attention, because she felt little more than a playing piece in the gods’ game of intrigue. Surely that feeling was just a part of life. Other people probably feel that way too. It was a nice reassurance and something that she really wanted to believe. Karigan had no desire to be powerful or to play with the fates of others, which was the business of kings and gods.

Through the rain, she could make out the blurred figure of the stable and she hastened forwards in anticipation of the dry building. Stepping through the dark opening, a wave of warmth and the smell of fresh hay welcomed her. Drawing near the stalls, a couple horses poked their heads out to eye her. Though none of them were her Condor (he wasn’t yet to arrive for a few more days), they still gladdened her heart.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

He had yet to be assigned anything and since he already knew how to write and ride, Captain Mapstone let him spend most of his days sparring with the Black Shields. This was was great fun for Sevelon. It had been so long since he’d been able to handle a sword and he greatly enjoyed the exercises. When he wasn’t on the practice fields, he hung around the King (of course the King didn’t know he was there) or Karigan (who was still wary of him, but didn’t protest). He was beginning to see her as tolerable company, especially if he compared her to the other castle residents.

Early one morning he saw her walking from the castle entrance towards the rider wing. She looked like she hadn’t slept, or at least not well. Her uniform was wrinkled and dusty. The bags under her eyes were suspiciously swollen. With a lurch of hardly remembered emotion, it reminded Sevelon of how his sister had looked after she’d once cried herself to sleep. He approached her. At the sound of his footsteps, she spun and looked over suspiciously. He didn’t know who she’d been expecting, but when she met his eyes, she relaxed her defensive stance.

“I was just headed to the kitchens, how about I grab two plates and bring them to the common room?” It was a long sentence for his usually silent self. She looked a bit startled at his speech and perhaps also by the offer. Looking unsure of his motives, she just nodded.

Undaunted by her lack of faith, he went to make good on his offer of breakfast. It was early enough that when he acquired two food trays, they were hot and steaming. He also grabbed two cups of tea. His sister had been fond of the herbal drink, maybe Karigan would be as well.

It turns out that she was. When Sevelon handed the hot mug to her, she cupped it in her hands and breathed in deeply as if it was a long cherished thing. No one else was in the common room and she’d started a fire. As they ate, he observed her. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned over the dark, sturdy table (more for support than anything). He’d seen her exhausted many times over the past weeks, usually as she finished her sparring lessons with Drent. What he was seeing now wasn’t a physical exhaustion. Sevelon wondered if she was as sick of the castle politics as he was. He would ask her what was wrong, but he highly doubted that she’d tell him the truth.

Normally, Sevelon was comfortable with silence and didn’t feel the need to talk unless Karigan asked him a question. Now however, he wished he was some spontaneous young man who could charm her into forgetting her worries.

He recalled one of their first conversations. Captain Mapstone had handed Karigan some paperwork, telling her to show “Sev” where Drakius Brown kept his office. Arms full of parchment, they walked off. When they reached the main part of the castle, their trip was delayed by a horde of high pitched women and in overstuffed silk costumes. The noblewomen had found something _fabulously funny_ and had stopped to talk about it, uncaring that they were blocking the entire main corridor. After a minute, he spotted Queen Estora and some of her friends in the center of the group and that they were about to begin a whole new conversation. At first he was patient, but after a few minutes he was tempted to just move them all out of the way. He could do it easily, and their resulting shrieks would be highly amusing. He couldn’t however, not if he wanted to keep his cover. Damn it, this place was like a gold-gilded cage, very pretty, but thoroughly stifling. He wanted to be free of the castle and the ridiculous people that tended to flock there.

When the ladies started exclaiming about their latest fashion, Sevelon muttered how it looked more like some unflattering disease. Karigan had apparently heard the uncharitable remark, because she burst out laughing.

He remembered how it had lifted her face and the image filled him with warmth. Now they sat together, away from such pompous and ignorant behavior, and he wished that he could make her laugh again.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

The next morning, he woke to someone knocking softly on his door. Pulling on his shirt, he was surprised to find a child dressed almost exactly like himself. He had seen these small messengers running around the castle, but he didn’t think he’d ever have one sent to him. Usually they were reserved for the nobility. This one stood there looking up at him and then blurted, “You’re very tall.” Eyes going wide, he clamped his hands over his mouth, as if he had forgotten that he was supposed to be professional.

Sevelon had to smile. He knelt down and straightened the boy’s uniform, he couldn’t be more than 7 and he seemed so small.

“Do you have a message for me?” He tried not to be too intimidating.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, “Captain Mapstone wants you in the council room.”

“Could you show me where that is?” Because to be honest, he had no bloody idea. The boy was nodding again and walking quickly down the hallway before Sevelon had time to close the door. Following the boy along multiple corridors, he had to wonder, since when could Kings afford to build such big houses for themselves and their guests? Sevelon would have chosen a smaller castle and housed at least twice the troops in the same space; it would be much more defensible. Not that Zachary had built it himself; he was only unfortunate enough to inherit it.

The boy led him to a set of double doors with guards posted on either side. On the inside sat twenty-some people in a variety of uniforms. He spotted green and sat in the open seat between Karigan and Captain Mapstone. For some reason, he had been chosen to represent the riders for this council of war. Maybe all the more senior riders were on message errands.

As the meeting progressed, Sevelon wasn’t sure if he was interested or bored. After trailing the King for days, he already knew the majority of the intelligence being shared. Some of the men in blue uniforms had an interesting theory on tactical maneuvers, but then the conversation was switched to a young group on the other side of the long table. Some of what they were saying rang of campaign inexperience. He looked around the table and had to wonder how many of this military staff had ever fought in battle. They had probably been in small skirmishes, what with groundmites, Colonel Birch, and the coup that had been attempted a few years prior. But this country hadn’t had a real war for two hundred years.

Somehow, Sevelon didn’t think any of these military officials would appreciate war advice from a lowly rider. After all, they would never be able to grasp how or why he was far more experienced in campaigning than any of them. So he sat in silence, acting like a naïve rider, not once voicing the flaws so clearly evident in their strategy. In the past, he had led armies into battle, but that was not his mission here. The best help he could be to these people was to blend in and not be noticed for what he truly was until the moment Mornhaven presented himself. If he succeeded, then they would win, regardless of whatever military plans they were making now.

To help keep himself quiet, he began to watch the people around him. He had learned enough about the castle’s intrigue in the past few weeks to know that some of these people could pose problems to his plan.

King Zachary was an especially a big problem.  He would have some very strong objections if Sevelon needed to dispose of Karigan in order to get to Mornhaven. Not that he wanted to, but ever since having touched her skin behind the horse stables, he was positive that a certain part of her magical base was connected to Mornhaven the Black. It was strong enough in fact, that the moment she touched him, he felt the darkness, that’s why he had turned around ready to attack.

This means that Mornhaven might try to manipulate her (and Sevelon might have to kill her), or she might die just because Mornhaven’s power was destroyed (which would be his doing as well).

So in the event that he had to harm Karigan and make Zachary his enemy, Sevelon would prefer for the King to think of him only as a minor threat. He obviously held Karigan in a special regard. More than that actually, if the rare unguarded looks he shot her were anything to go by. These were loaded gazes, and displayed a far from platonic relationship. Sevelon noted that he was not the only one observing. Queen Estora was following the king’s motions with keen supervision, as if she was afraid her husband was going to tumble the Knight of the Realm.

Karigan however would not return the King’s glances. During the meeting, she hardly even looked up from the table. She participated when necessary, but otherwise sat awkwardly in her chair, as if she would rather be anywhere else than in that room.

As the meeting was about to wrap up, the King announced that the green riders would be patrolling as well as delivering messengers. He argued that they were less conspicuous and most towns people would trust them with talk that they would keep quiet around the more militaristic units.

Captain Mapstone addressed them as everyone else was rising from their seats. “You two will be patrolling Eastern LiPetre, Southern Penburn, and D’yer Province. You will be given several letters just in case you need an excuse to stop in on one of the governors, but your main duty is to protect the villagers and watch Second Empire’s movements.” Here she looked at Karigan. “You’ll be happy to know that Condor arrived late last night with some urgent reports from Alton. He says that the wall has been _leaking_ some strange creatures. They don’t know what exactly because all the night guards were killed. I’m sending you since you’re the most experienced with Blackveil’s creatures. Drent agrees with me that Rider Sev is ready for this kind of confrontation, but I trust you will still treat this like a training mission for him.” Here she looked at Sevelon. “If anything major happens, return to Sacor City immediately to let the king know. I expect to have some kind of report at the end of the month.”

Looking like a proud parent, the Captain smiled as she looked between them and Sevelon strongly suspected her of playing match-maker. It was just as well for him since he’d rather be stuck with Karigan than any other rider. He just had more faith in Karigan’s ability to handle bad situations. Still grinning, Mapstone finished with, “Take care of each other.”

**Chapter 7**

**“Swift as the wind, quiet as the forest, conquer like the fire, steady as the mountain”—Art of War, Sun Tzu**

They were fellow riders and Karigan knew that they should trust one another, but there was still something about Sev that made her wary. It wasn’t that she felt threatened—she didn’t think he would hurt her. It’s just that there was something about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it and she hadn’t even tried to explain it to Mara or Teagan, because they seemed to think he was just a normal rider. It felt like he had his own fathomless dimension that separated him from everything else. The idea sounded so silly in her head, she was sure her friends would tease her, saying, “So what, are you drawn to him too?” As if he could just attract people by his mere proximity. Teagan had already pointed out how striking the man was, and made some lewd jokes suggesting just what Karigan could “train” him on. 

As Karigan rode behind Sev, she couldn’t help but agree with her friend. The man did cut quite the figure. He didn’t have large muscles, wavy hair, winning smile, or whatever girls typically fancy. Yes, his looks were good enough, though it was more the way he held himself. His presence demanded attention and it was probably some unknown part of Karigan’s ability, but he seemed to exude power. It was this that made him catch so much attention and also why most people didn’t feel comfortable standing next to him.

Whether or not she trusted Sev, they were assigned to patrol together and she would do her duty.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

They smelled it before they saw the source. On the side of the road, a small village lay in waste. The few houses were charred and smoking, surrounding an interior square strewn with hay, food, and mutilated bodies.

“What did this?” Karigan was surprised to hear Sev’s voice sound so cold. She turned to see anger etched in his face. Not that she could blame him, the sight of this destroyed hamlet and its people made her anger as acute as his.

Condor was whinnying and trying to pull away. She knew he could smell the blood. Dismounting, she walked into the town square. After examining the gruesome sight of one child, she turned back to Sev, “They were attacked by Groundmites.”

Karigan wanted to bury the bodies, but the carnage was fresh and she was afraid they’d be attacked while working. Their chances of survival would be much lower once they were off their horses. She would have to let someone know at the next town they passed, and they could send some militia. Sevelon didn’t disagree with her, so they went on. Not an hour after passing the still smoking village, the riders approached a field with some large boulders surrounding the road.

A screeching scream was their only warning before a band of groundmites rushed from behind the rocks. Karigan knew they’d be trapped if they stayed where they were and was the first to react. Spinning Condor off the road, she headed towards the open field, away from the rock outcrop. She heard Sev and the groundmites follow. The image of the burning village flashed through Karigan’s mind and she knew they couldn’t leave these groundmites to attack another village. A crude arrow whizzed by her head and with determination she increased her speed to give them some distance. Once she was in the open field, she turned Condor sharply and dug her heels into his side. He wasn’t a sprinter like Crane, but he was fast. She past Sev and ran straight at the bulk of the groundmite group. Unused to being charged, the groundmites didn’t move out of the way in time. Karigan swept through the mass, blade sweeping down on every vulnerable body part within reach. When there were no more bodies left, she turned Condor for another go.

Sev quickly realized what she was doing and turned his cavalry horse to join Karigan, so they could charge the group from both sides. Several more arrows were shot, but badly aimed. By the third charge, Karigan had received several shallow cuts on her legs, but barely felt the pain.

When she could find no more bodies standing, she looked for Sev. He was already on the ground going through and systematically cutting the throat of any creature still breathing. When he cut the last throat and silenced its incoherent moaning, he turned to her.

He stood there among the bodies and looked at her, as if to ask what next. Karigan knew they couldn’t just leave the pile of bodies next to the road. All moral reasons aside, it would have a bad effect on the area’s commerce and only be a reminder to the local population that their homes were unsafe.

She set him piling the bodies as she searched for dry, fast burning wood. By the time they had the blaze going, the sun was sinking low in the sky. They had not said a word more to each other in the two hours it took to clean up the mess they made. If Karigan was more like Ty (Rider Perfect & Exemplary Trainer), then she would say something as encouragement. Tell Sev not to worry, rides are only this exciting if you ride with her, otherwise you just have to worry about normal threats like snow storms and bandits. But that wouldn’t be true, groundmite activity had risen dramatically in the past few weeks, and all riders were now at risk of being attacked. Karigan could only hope that none of the other riders would have to face such a large group on their own.

By sunset, the fire had burned itself down and the riders went in search of a campsite. Dusk was setting in and Karigan said they couldn’t allow a fire, in the event of attracting more unwelcome guests. He just nodded his acceptance and continued to lay out his bedroll.

Karigan surveyed this new rider, he had been awfully quiet. Well so had she, but still…their uniforms were covered in blood and ashes, yet he was calm and composed as if nothing unwarranted had happened. She knew riders came from all different backgrounds, but she was once again reminded that her companion was no stranger to fighting.

“That was not your first time killing.” It was a bold statement, but she was in no mood to skirt around the private issue. Surely it would come up in the future, and she’d rather know now if she could depend on him.

“Nor yours.” This actually startled a laugh out of her and he grinned genuinely back. She wondered how she looked to him. No doubt her aunts would think it ghastly that she was covered in such filth. She could hear their voices now, each trying to drown out the others with their own comments on the impropriety of it all. The thought lightened her mood.

In the morning, they found a stream and Karigan insisted they stay an extra few hours to thoroughly clean their uniforms. Even if this wasn’t really a message errand, messengers of the King were expected to look respectable. Only under the direst of circumstances were they allowed to show up at a Lord Governor’s home in such bad shape.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

After Karigan walked off, Sevelon barely had to think before the grime fell off, but he knew Karigan would have to clean her uniform manually. After what he thought was sufficient time, he went in search for her. Feeling a little impatient, he twined through the trees. He didn’t like the feeling of despair in the air and he wanted them to be on their way. He heard the stream, and he slipped through two trees and around a boulder before coming to an abrupt halt. Apparently, he hadn’t given her enough time, for she stood there in nothing but her underclothes. Feet spread wide apart and with bare toes clutching the big rocks for support, her legs were strong and her backside shapely. Looking at her, he remembered what it was to be a living, breathing male. He stood motionless and silent. She had yet to notice his presence and he was loathe to end the scene.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

Walking off a ways, Karigan found a secluded spot and stripped down to her underclothes. Scrubbing with a handful of grass, she first rid the filth from her body, then her pants and shirt. She vigorously cleaned the cloth, but the blood stains would require a real washing to fully disappear. After hanging them out to dry, she dug through her saddle bags to find the extra pair of clothes. She was looking at the stream and tying her breeches when a twig snapped behind her. The saber was brandished in her hand and pointed at his chest before he had the chance to announce himself.

Instead of looking threatened by the sharp edge directed at his heart, he merely looked amused. Seeing it was only Sev, she relaxed. Karigan returned his gaze and was perplexed as she tried to decipher his look. Then she felt a breeze across her shoulders and remembered that she was standing there barefoot with only breeches and a breast-band. She was standing half naked in front of a man. Immediately dropping her blade in favor of the shirt, she roughly pulled it on. She took a calming breath and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

He raised an eyebrow. Her face became even hotter, if that was possible.

The corner of his mouth quirked and he pondered aloud, “You were not so shy when you rode to Darden in nothing but your skin.”

She was shocked that he had actually brought that up. Indignantly she wondered if it was necessary to remind him that she was his superior. He had obviously been informed of her more colorful exploits, and she knew that it would be better to just correct the falsehood (no matter how slim it was). “I was in a night gown.” She replied airily, as if that wasn’t bad enough in itself. “Where did you hear about that anyways?” The tone of her voice just a little too light. 

“Rider Duff thought I should be prepared for what I was getting myself into.”

Fergal. She was going to strangle him after all. At least Karigan didn’t have to worry about Sev throwing himself into a river. Actually, there wasn’t anything extremely debilitating about riding with Sev. He could make or break camp without her instructions, he was an excellent rider, could read, and write. He could fight better than Karigan. So no lessons were necessary, she just had to mentor him in how he would be expected to behave as a green rider. This however, was not going very well. He seemed positively nonplussed about his new duty to the King, and Karigan couldn’t understand what would lead to such a lack of caring. Usually people had one of two reactions to the rider’s call. Either they were grateful because the green riders were an improvement to their former situation, or they were unhappy because it took them away from their planned life. How could he seem so unconcerned about the turn his life had taken?

She had to wonder if he was an ex-mercenary, a member of the groups who often gave the crown so much trouble, but quickly threw the idea away. No, he wasn’t like Garroty, Jendara, or Tor (the only mercenaries she had ever known). She couldn’t explain why, but she sensed he had more loyalty than those that kill for profit.

 

**Chapter 8**

**“A hero has faced it all: he need not be undefeated, but he must be undaunted.”—Andrew Bernstein**

They were half a day from Weyman when Sev felt a presence following them. Allowing Karigan to lead on the small road, he silently tracked the presence. When he felt it getting close, he suggested they give the horses a rest. She agreed and tied them up to a tree at the side of the road. He wanted to be on his feet when the presence caught up with them and the horses would only spook, for even at this distance, he could feel something was unnatural about the group that was gaining on them fast. He knew they were almost on them.

“Lass, grab your blade.”

She was suddenly alert and he was glad this rider wasn’t the type to question a warning.

The first glimpse was of something blurring through the trees on the other side of the road. They crashed through the foliage, looking like a blur of white limbs tearing through everything in their path.

Karigan squinted at the disturbance, and then her eyes widened. Quietly she confided, “I had hoped to never see these creatures again.” As the horde approached, she quickly explained, “They used to be Eletian Sleepers, before they were turned dark. Be sure to kill them, they cannot be healed and will keep attacking even when severely injured.” Steadying herself, she widened her stance and raised her blade in readiness for the oncoming attack.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

He had known many Eletians during his life, but he had never seen anything like the creatures crashing through the forest in the attempt to get to them. The heads were bald and bodies sickly thin. The limbs moved as quickly as a spider’s and they seemed to have a general lack of care for each other’s well-being, as some were pushed behind or stepped on.

Sevelon knew this wasn’t a situation, such as the groundmite attack, where he should slaughter the offenders. Mind working quickly, he decided to put them back in the ground where they belong. But first he’d have to take away their consciousness, so their bodies could peacefully decay.

As soon as the mass of white limbs and teeth broke onto the road, he reached his power out. First he worked on their minds to dull the process that was driving them.  What he did wouldn’t kill them, but it would take the vicious, single-minded purpose out of their attack and then he would just have to dispose of their bodies.

By the time the former Eletians reached them, the creatures no longer had conscious drive and moved much slower. Their bodies jerked haphazardly as if they only worked due to momentum and muscle impulse. He began to cut them down easily. At his side, Karigan had just stabbed one through the chest. She was about to pull her saber free when he saw her head jerk as if  something caught her attention and she jumped behind him. Then he heard an impact of flesh and sounds of a struggle. Freezing the remaining sleepers where they stood, he turned in time to see a man overpowering Karigan and smashing her head to the ground.

He had allowed himself to become too involved with giving the sleepers a proper rest, that he’d completely missed the mind driving the horde. Sloppy. Frustrated with himself, he shattered the dead tree at the road’s edge and sent the pieces hurtling towards the man. The man hit a tree with a satisfying thunk. Feebly he tried to move, but his limbs were impaled to the trunk.

Only stopping to make sure Karigan was still breathing, he made his way to look in the man’s eyes. He rarely drew out a person’s suffering, but he wanted to know why they were attacked. So far, Mornhaven had been unaware of the immortal’s presence, but if the Black One had figured out he was here, Sevelon would certainly be challenged and more innocent people would die than necessary. Also, Sevelon wanted to be sure that Karigan was far away when the confrontation took place. He didn’t want her to die. He didn’t want to be the cause of her death. Gazing into the man’s eyes, he saw a series of images flash by. A grove within a dark forest, an old woman saying something with her last breath, and a child singing sickly things in an all too beautiful voice. He was a member of Second Empire. This man was tainted, but was not sent to kill him. His target had been Karigan. Sevelon looked back at the unconscious woman, remembering the pieces of gossip he had heard about her and realized he was travelling with someone who had quite a few enemies of her own. Distracted with his thoughts, he quickly disposed of the attackers and placed them in shallow, unmarked graves. Karigan lay on the ground, her head resting in a pile of bloody pine needles. When he picked her up, she moaned.

The pain had woken her up enough so she could say, “Not too far up the road there should be a rider waystation.” She was beginning to black out. “ _The Horse_ will recognize it…” He was relieved when she fell limp in his arms. It was for the best, the wound wasn’t anything more serious than a minor concussion. Plus, if she was sleeping, she wouldn’t have time to think over anything she might have seen. He was supposed to be acting like a green rider. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sevelon knew the effort to act within the range of their small abilities was going to grate him.

Walking towards the horses, he almost had to laugh at the difference between the two mounts. Her stud Condor was overly concerned that his mistress was dead, no doubt he smelt her blood and that is why he was straining against his ropes. Sevelon wasn’t sure he liked these rider horses and was glad they had given him a cavalry horse. His mount was clearly over the excitement and continued to disregard his presence in favor of eating the roadside grass. Acting how a horse should act.

He tied her to her fretting horse, and opted to lead the horses on foot to find this waystation she spoke of. It wasn’t long before her horse started tugging him towards an old deer trail. Karigan was correct when she claimed her horse would recognize the location. The trail led to a tiny, one person cabin and an adjoining stable. He carried her into the musty hut and placed her on the sole bed, before returning to take care of the horses. He found dried grain in the horses’ shelter and a stream not too far off, where he could refill their water skins.

He returned to the hut to find Karigan shivering. He went in search for a blanket. Opening the rickety closet door he found several wool blankets as well as medical supplies and some preserved food. Once she was covered, he dragged a stool to her bedside and wiped the dried blood from her temple. There was plenty more that dirtied her hair, but she would have to clean that herself. Head wounds always bleed profusely, even small ones like this. In the closet, he’d found an herbal salve which he now used on the gash. He couldn’t help muttering, “Foolish girl should have stayed out of the fight.”

Apparently she wasn’t as knocked out as he’d thought. Her eyes remained closed, but she replied, “I saw movement in the tree behind you and I didn’t have enough time to raise my sword.”

“So you blocked me with your body.”

Eyes still closed, she broke into a crooked smile, and justified her action, “It would have looked bad on the report if I’d allow you to get killed in training.” She tried to laugh, but only started coughing.

He doubted that was her true motivation; he was beginning to realize she was the type to sacrifice her own safety to protect others. It was likely that she hadn’t even thought before leaping to his defense. He eyed the blue handprints that were forming on her neck and remembered the man had used both hands to knock her head against the ground. Usually Sevelon dealt out punishment without being too emotionally involved. He rarely had any feelings towards those he killed, after all he was only handing out the gods’ justice. However, looking at Karigan’s fragile neck and remembering the pitifully controlled tainted Sleepers, Sevelon was glad the man had felt pain before he died. He continued to examine her, wondering how much she had noticed. Had she been awake enough to see how he killed them or buried their bodies? He didn’t know.

Since she met him, she’s been sending him strange looks, as if she knew who he is. She was much too perceptive for her own good.

He let out an exasperated breath and ran a hand through his hair. It would almost be better if she did know. It would certainly make his life easier, but could he trust her to keep such a secret? The female looked so harmless and innocent when she slept. He knew this was far from the truth and he remembered her angry charge at the groundmites. She had been furious and brilliant, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything more beautiful than this woman when she was protecting her people. This type of person was very rare. The universe could use more like her.

There were times when she looked at him, her eyes deep with memories of dark places. In these moments, he was reminded of some of the immortals, because her eyes held the same quality of space spanning wide and deep. She had brushed with great power before _and she was still sane_. In his opinion, this fact alone made her seem capable of keeping his secret.

Sevelon sat on the floor and watched her sleep. When her rest grew fitful, he recalled a song that an Eletian friend had taught him long ago. Carefully he moved forward and placed his hand on her forehead. Then he began to sing, each verse a tranquil pattern of lilting sounds. The ancient tongue made him seem like a much better singer than he actually was. The song was of peace, rest, and a chance to regain your energy. As his voice drifted through the small cabin, he saw her body relax and her breathing become even. She would have no more bad dreams this night.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

He woke with dawn’s first light and decided that he should bathe before checking on his charges. The forest was quiet, many of the animals still burrowed into their niches. He felt grimy and the water was a welcome sight. Submerging his bare feet into the stream, he cupped his hands to poor the refreshing water over his head and back.

The horses were amiable as ever and munched happily on the new grain.

He woke Karigan and they rode peacefully through the day, passing several more villages before the sun lowered itself in the sky.  That night by the fire, he caught her staring at him.

“What’s on your mind lass?” 

“Oh just wondering if this will turn out like the last time I trained a rider.”

“Was it bad then?”

“He almost killed both of us because he wanted to find out what his gift would be.”

Sevelon knew he should try to sound curious. “What do you think mine will be?”

She looked at him for a long time before answering solemnly, “You have a combination of gifts. I’ve never seen the like before.”

So she had seen a bit of what he could really do. Turning the subject to something easier, he asked her to continue her story of the other training run.

She described the boy’s antics with exasperation, but he can see she is fond of these memories. When she talks about Damien Frost’s farm, he asks her to describe the stallion.

“Sounds like Salvistar.” It was out of his mouth before he had time to check himself. She looked at him closely.

“Yes.” The tone was clipped and he knew she was ending the conversation. At times, she was as skittish as a wild horse. It was very interesting that she didn’t want to talk about Salvistar. Maybe the other riders were right when they claimed she was too shy and modest to talk about her own exploits, but Sevelon wondered if there was more to those exploits than any of those less experienced people could understand.

Hiding everything from her was beginning to tax him. Plus, if he told her who he really was, maybe she would open up to him. So he finally asked, “What do you know of Sevelon’s Legend?”

She leaned back against her saddle bags and spread her long legs out on the ground.

 “He once served the god and goddess by attending to their business on earth. When his service to the gods was complete, he threw his sword into the sky. Today it is a  _constellation_  of seven stars in the shape of a cross. Sometimes it disappears, but it is very reliable for returning to the sky.”

“What do you suppose that makes Sevelon?” His eyes were twinkling; this was actually kind of fun.

“He lives in the heavens, so is it crazy to claim he has become a constellation?”

He had never thought of himself quite in that way, but in a way she was right, because the sword of stars wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t.

“What if I told you that I have power outside the broach.”

“I would say it explains how you managed to eavesdrop in the hospital wing without anyone noticing.”

“You noticed.”

“Did you mean for me to see?”

“No, it was part of a light bending trick. I had been doing it for several hours before you showed up in the throne room. In the hospital wing I was surprised when a human finally noticed me.”

Now she was sitting up. He’d gotten her full attention. As if the questions had been burning her mind for weeks, she finally let them drop, “What are you and what are your intentions?”

“My birth name is Sevelon. My duty here is to hand out Aeryc and Aeryon’s justice.”

“If you are who you say you are and not a mage of some sort, why are you pretending to be a green rider?”

“It will be better if Mornhaven is unaware of my presence until the last possible moment.” Here he smiled. “I wanted to be near you. So becoming a green rider was the logical solution.”

This made her eyebrows come together. She rarely looked perplexed, but he enjoyed such moments. It meant that he’d said something that she had never thought of before. Finally, she brushed everything else aside and went for the most important issue. “Aeryc and Aeryon want Mornhaven dead.”

“Yes.”

“Why now? Why not a thousand years ago, when he first started his atrocities?”

“To gain the gods’ notice, a mortal has to do something truly amazing and unexpected. Mornhaven is like many other men throughout human history, he is driven by his search for power. During what you call the Long War, he amassed a good amount of power. It was enough to give him control in the mortal realms. It was only recently however that he attracted the gods’ attention.”

He paused and looked at her. “Do you remember how it was to look in the mask?”

A stricken look filled her face and he knew that she would understand. Unlike most people, she had seen the real possibility of becoming a god. For her it was probably full of endless opportunities. Just looking at such an object could be overwhelming for a mortal. She just nodded and answered, “Yes.”

“That day, you held true power in your hands. When the Tumbler gave it to you, he thought he was tricking you. At that moment, the gods’ attention was focused on you to see what you would do with that power. When Mornhaven appeared at that moment, there were several strings of future possibilities, all based on your next decision. One possibility was that Mornhaven, after all these years of searching, would finally have the power to essentially become a god. By destroying that mask, you saved your life. If you had given Mornhaven the mask, he would have enslaved you and later killed you. If you had put the mask on, you would have gone mad or the gods would have killed you.”

Karigan rubbed her forehead, “But Mornhaven didn’t get the mask. It was destroyed.”

“Yes. But for the first time in his life he almost attained true power; strength and opportunity that only the gods have. It was at that moment, Aeryc and Aeryon decided he was a threat that needed to be dealt with.”

She whispered, “The gods’ justice.”

He nodded, “That is why I’m here.”

 

*o*o*o*o*o

 

That night she lay awake thinking about what he’d said.

She looked at his sleeping form lying on the other side of the campfire’s dying embers. She knew she should be terrified, sleeping near someone with so much power that she couldn’t even imagine the extent of his full capabilities. But if she was honest, she felt relieved. For the first time since she had met Mornhaven, she felt like she didn’t have to face him alone. Now there was another who shared the responsibility. Plus, she had never felt threatened by his presence. If anything she now felt safer. She fell asleep, thinking how bizarre that was.

 

**Chapter 9**

**A lie will easily get you out of a scrape, and yet, strangely and beautifully, rapture possesses you when you have taken the scrape and left out the lie—Charles Edward Montaque, _Disenchantment_**

The next day they packed up as if everything was normal, and it was. The only difference was that Karigan was now very aware of her travelling companion.

By the afternoon, they saw a village marked by an old sign that declared they were now in Codswallow. Yesterday, they had entered D’yer Provence and were headed for Woodhaven, but that was still a good two days ride away. They would need some more provisions before then. After looking around and seeing the village didn’t have much to offer in the way of a general store, they headed for what looked like the town inn.

As they got closer, Karigan looked at it with distaste. It looked as if the owners had let it run to ruin. The roof was dipping low, the railing had at one point broken and no one had bothered to fix it. How did they expect to get any customers with their building in such a poor state? They walked up rickety stairs and approached the front door. Karigan hesitated at the inn’s entrance, the inside was deplorable. There were drunk men singing in the corner and a woman was sitting in the lap of a young, handsome customer, clearly selling more than drink. Sev (Sevelon she had to remind herself), nudged her shoulder and led her inside. As they walked to a table away from the other customers, the floor made ripping sounds, as if it had not been scrubbed in days. The smell was slightly rancid, possibly from the dried booze on the floor. The inn keeper sat them at the table and asked what food they wanted. Karigan had to make an effort to keep the disgust from her voice as she ordered.

When the man left them alone. Sevelon looked around the tavern room and mocked her. “You survived Blackveil, yet you balk at this?”

 She looked around, apprehensive of being overheard.

“Do not worry, I’m bending the sound. No one can hear us, though I doubt even the inn keeper is sober enough to attempt such a feat as eavesdropping.”

Relieved, she continued. “By all accounts I should not have survived.”

“Have you considered the fact that the gods favor you?”

“The gods favor no one.”

“They look after their own affairs first and foremost, but they do notice some humans, especially if the human’s actions compliment a particular god’s plan.”

“I’d rather not have the notice of the gods.”

He leaned back in his chair to stretch as if it was nothing, but his voice came out as old and enduring as the wind itself. “Sometimes we do not have a choice.”

A memory shone in her mind, elusive, like a piece of metal deep within the water, only to catch the light at certain angles. The memory was of a war horse’s back, broad and black as night, muscles pumping underneath her as if flying through the air. The sound of wings beating and draining out every other sense. Twice while sleeping in Blackveil, she would wake because these wings were beating so strongly through her mind. These visions seemed as a part of her as her own memories, but she would only ever get flashes of them. She knew they were significant, but she didn’t fully understand them. This nervousness is perhaps what prompted her to share the experience with him. Or perhaps it was because he wouldn’t think she was crazy.

“When riders are called, they hear hoof beats.” He just nodded, in understanding or for her to continue, perhaps both. “For me the hoof beats didn’t stop, but would appear again in times of great need.” Or perhaps in great purpose, but she didn’t want to put such a self-important term to her own actions. “This faded about a year ago. Something truly disastrous was going to happen. I’m not entirely sure what it was, but I could feel it, can still feel that it was something disturbingly dark and deeply pervasive.” Here she stopped and looked at him, unsure if he would think she was crazy. He just nodded again, this time in acceptance. His facial features were calm. He didn’t seem to think she was off reality, so in a rush, she told him what was bothering her. “But it was stopped and ever since I’ve been having these images return like they were my own memories, only diluted and lacking detail. For the past year, it’s not hoof beats I’ve been hearing, it’s wings beating the air.” She paused and looked at him, her eyes searching for understanding, “The incident’s all muddled in my mind. Does anything I just said make sense?”

“I think you have the gods’ notice more than you know.”

She shrugged, “There’ve been times when I’ve felt connected to Westrion and Salvistar.”

“They used you and you can’t remember what happened,” he stated. He felt anger on her behalf. He knew all too well what it felt like to be used as a pawn in the gods’ great game of fate.

She nodded, and quietly confirmed, “I think so.”

 

o*o*o*o*o

 

A day from Woodhaven, he warned of a group nearby, and that they should hide the horses in the trees. Once Condor and the cavalry horse were stowed a safe distance away, they crept up to a group encamped along the side of the road. By all outward appearances, they seemed like D’yer soldiers. Karigan inspected the man standing watch closest to them. His royal blue uniform looked tight, as if it was made for a smaller man. His hair was ragged; he did not look like a man of military discipline. These were not D’yer troops.

Crouching close to Sevelon, she let loose a quiet, breathy question, “Who are they?”

He responded just as quietly, “I’m not entirely sure, but I need to get closer. Would you mind if I allowed us to be captured?”

His question startled Karigan. Feeling slow on the uptake, she restated. “You want to get captured.”

He was looking in the direction of the troops, and absentmindedly continued. “There is something very wrong in this group. I’d like to see it up close.”

Karigan understood it was his duty to fulfill Aeryc and Aeryon’s justice, but she was hesitant to do anything that might compromise her duty to Sacoridia.

“Can’t we just observe? We both have the ability to be invisible.”

He shook his head, as much to answer her question as to bring his thoughts back to the present. Then he looked at his companion, trying to read through her hesitation. “Before I decide how to fix this, I have to see it. Touch it even. I promise you, we will be able to leave when this task of mine is done. Trust me, there is something in this group that you would not want wandering freely through your countryside.”

 “I’ll give you half a day, then we must be on our way.” She needed to get to Woodhaven to send a report to Captain Mapstone.

“Yes Sir.” His eyes sparked with amusement and Karigan suspected he was making fun of her status as the Knight of the Realm.

She just harrumphed and walked out of their cover, toward their soon to be captors. Such jokes coming from a bloody Constellation! If anything, she should be bowing to him. Not that she would be the one to point that out. She was never very good at treating people as if they were higher than herself. Aristocrats had always made her uncomfortable and hadn’t she accidentally told off the King during that abysmal game of intrigue? She didn’t have the greatest track record for giving people their proper respect. She tended to speak her mind, regardless of who she was speaking to. It was so when she spoke to the King and it would be no different with an immortal. She would forget that she was supposed to gravel at his feet and would instead act as she darn well pleased.

He caught up to her, trampling sticks and making as much noise as possible. The men looked startled, as if they’d expected a wild animal. When they saw it was two people, they picked up their swords and ran at the pair. In imitation of a noblewoman she’d went to school with, Karigan squeaked, “Oh no! Look at these brutes. We’re going to be robbed!” She made the last word extremely high pitched in the hopes that it would annoy Sevelon. When he looked at her, she just waved him on. It wasn’t HER idea to be captured.

The men roughly grabbed Sevelon and tied his hands. “Wrong place to take a walk mate,” they jeered at him and gave him some suggestions on how to shut up his girlfriend. None of the suggestions were very gentle. Karigan didn’t fight when they grabbed her hands and tied them behind her back. She was too amused at how Sevelon was being roughhoused by the men. As the men led them into the camp and forced them to the ground, he acted so abjectly cowed. She knew the immortal could probably squash them all with just the bat of his eyelashes.

The amusement abruptly ended when Karigan recognized her best friend’s voice. However, when she sought its source, it wasn’t Estral but a little girl. Karigan remembered Alton’s letter describing the mysteriously sudden loss of her friend’s voice. How he didn’t think it was natural. And here was this child, singing with that voice. It was the same voice that Karigan had grown up with, its beauty was unmistakable. Karigan could only look at the little girl with horror.

“Sev!” She whispered harshly, almost forgetting to call him by his short name.

He looked completely in control of the situation, even with his hands tied. Seeing him so unbothered helped calm her nerves. Still, she had to let him know, even if she didn’t fully understand how this had happened. “My friend Estral mysteriously lost her voice while at the wall. That little girl is singing with it. I’d recognize it anywhere. We have to do something.” She didn’t care if her plea sounded petty. Her friend was withering without her voice. Estral’s voice was a part of her being, similar to Karigan’s gift, take that away and her body would suffer. 

He looked at the little girl and Karigan wondered if this new development would change how he was going to handle things. She hoped so, for the sake of her friend. In the letters, Estral tried to be positive about the situation, but Alton’s letters were more honest. He told how Estral continued to be ill and that her strength seemed to diminish by the day.

Unable to grasp his shoulder with both her hands tied behind her back, Karigan scooted closer to Sevelon. When her arm met his, he looked down at her. Her eyes searched his, hoping to find compassion or empathy of some kind. “Please.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded weak.

His eyes remained glassy and remote. She was once again reminded that he wasn’t a normal green rider. When he didn’t respond, she tried to push her case. “Estral’s voice is the product of generations of greatness. It is magical in its own way. I’ve met few people who could bring such goodness into the world. She can help heal this land, but without her voice she will die. She is already only half the person she used to be.” His gaze was still emotionless and Karigan was running out of arguments. With a last ditch effort, she admitted, “I only have so many friends.” Then she looked away, ashamed that her eyes had begun to water.

That is when the world went still. Karigan didn’t see it happen, but suddenly the men were on the ground. None of them moved and she knew they must be dead. She gulped as she watched Sevelon walk casually up to the little girl. Never had he looked less human than he did now, carnage at his feet and starring at this little girl. Karigan knew he was going to kill her.

Only, he didn’t kill her. He stood there for a moment, as if unsure about what he was about to do, then he picked her up and brought her back to Karigan.

Gruffly, he informed, “She is your charge until we reach Woodhaven.”

 

o*o*o*o*o*o*o

 

That night, Karigan watched the little girl singing next to the fire. Hearing that voice and knowing it had to be connected to evil, she couldn’t help but think of the little girl as a monster. Apparently, her feelings of disgust were showing on her face, because Sevelon informed her, “You shouldn’t treat her so harshly you know.”

Karigan was embarrassed that he knew she had such bad thoughts about one so young. “I know,” She admitted with a sigh. “It’s just everything that is associated with the Second Empire is tainted in my mind. That Grandmother woman was especially vicious when dealing with our people. She would use her gift to twist their minds, make them believe they were being constantly tortured, when really they were just sitting there.” Karigan remembered finding Beryl Spencer in that tent, and shuddered at the memory of such a strong woman being broken with only string and a few words.

Before responding, Sevelon was quiet for a moment.  “Humans think of the world as they see it; the problem is that most people do not see beyond themselves. As I grew up, I realized that my thinking was limited by certain conditions. Everything from my family’s beliefs to my own personal experiences would dictate how I interpreted every situation.”

He was trying to soften his comment by saying even he wasn’t perfect, but Karigan knew when she was being chastised. She looked at the little girl. Looking like any other innocent child, she sat by the fire, playing happily with a bunch of twigs and acting as if they were people. Grudgingly, Karigan had to admit Sevelon made sense. If the girl’s family was Second Empire, it means she was born into a society that truly believed they had been wronged. “You’re right. She cannot help what she was born into any more than we can. Nor is she responsible for what was done to her,” Karigan admitted out loud.

The next day, Karigan made an effort to treat the girl as if she was like any other child who was away from their family and everything familiar. The results of that small kindness were surprising. After only a few times of Karigan thanking her, the girl became extremely helpful. She also became more talkative. It was still disturbing for Estral’s adult voice to come from such a small frame, but Karigan tried not to think about it overmuch.

As they rode into Woodhaven, Karigan did ask Sevelon. “What will you do with her when Estral has her voice back?” She asked, indicating the girl who was sleeping in front of Karigan, great coat tugged tightly around her small form.

“Before, she had been a mute.” He explained, “Often times, mute children will find their voice as they grow older. She hadn’t found hers yet, but once she gives your friend’s voice back, she will terribly miss being able to communicate. I suspect she will find her own voice then.”

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

A day later they sat in Woodhaven, having a private dinner with Alton and Estral. Sevelon had returned Estral’s voice and they’d found a foster home for the girl. Returning the voice didn’t take much effort on his part. Though by the way Karigan now smiled at him, she thought he was the best man in the universe. For a moment, he thought she would hug him out of happiness, but instead she’d turned her attention towards her recovering friend. It was a shame, he was curious how she would have felt in his arms. He had not been touched in such a gentle way since he’d said goodbye to his mother and that memory was millennia away. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have such comfort once again.

Throughout dinner, Estral and Alton bombarded him and Karigan with questions. Estral’s curiosity seemed insatiable, “Your rider ability must be well controlled to accomplish such a thing.”

Sevelon shrugged, he didn’t want them to think he was capable of anything greater than a card trick. Just because he told Karigan who he was, did not mean he wanted the whole world knowing. If anyone found out who he was, such information would fly like fire on a dry field. If Mornhaven found out, Sevelon would lose the element of surprise. Undoubtedly, Mornhaven would react as he always had, with an iron fist of fury and many more people would die. He trusted Karigan with his secrets, but could not afford to have either Alton or Estral know. He needed them all to believe he was a regular green rider. Not to mention, minstrels were some of the worst gossips—always claiming their duty was to write songs about things happening around the land. Karigan’s friend would drool at the mouth for the opportunity to write a song of how he’d saved her. Keeping his true powers and identity secret, he claimed his “special ability” was bending sound. He explained this was how he’d been able to give her voice back.

Karigan kept quiet during such explanations. He knew she wouldn’t gainsay his cover story, she was too thankful for Sevelon’s intervention in the situation. Her friend had a voice and was recovering from a fatal sickness. She was content to let Sevelon spin whatever tale he liked.

“Maybe you could help fix the wall,” Alton sounded excited.

Sevelon couldn’t understand why they had spent so much time worrying about the wall. Fixing the wall would only give them a temporary break from their problems. No flimsy wall would stop Mornhaven, not now that he was recovered from his injuries. When Mornhaven was gone, Kanmorhen Vane would heal. But, these mortals had no way of knowing that. Nor, could they have any way of knowing that Mornhaven’s existence would soon be extinguished. He sighed, he should be easier on them. These were Karigan’s friends, surely if she respected them, then they were good people.

If only for Karigan’s sake, he’d humor this man, “I’m not sure if my ability works that way, but we can try.”

“Great. Of course, it’ll have to wait until we get back from Sacor City, but this could be what finally works. The King will be very pleased.”

Karigan saved Sevelon from having to answer, by asking, “When are you leaving for Sacor City?”

“First thing in the morning. A message arrived for my father earlier today declaring that Sacoridia is going to War and our presence is required at the Capital. I expect the King has sent similar notes to all the governors, requesting them and their militias.”

Sevelon caught Karigan’s eyes, trying to communicate silently that he’d need to be around for any major conflict. She nodded almost unperceivably.

She turned back to her friends, “We’ll travel with you. Captain Mapstone wanted a report soon anyways.”

 

 

 

 

**Chapter 10**

Author’s note: I couldn’t remember what language the Eletians speak, so I called it Eltish. If this is incorrect, please let me know! Thanks.

**“When you do dance, I wish you a wave o’ th’ sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.”—Florizel, The Winter’s Tale, Shakespeare**

On the way back to Sacor City, Sevelon’s thoughts were troubled. Spending so much time with her had awakened something inside him, the likeness of which he had not given thought since years uncounted. It wasn’t sexual arousal (well there was that too, at times he felt like a hormonal young man).

In the immortal realms his sole company was other god-like beings and he had forgotten how it was to be with a normal person. So carefree and yet so intense their desire to live, mortals were intoxicating with their mere presence. Lately he was experiencing moments when his great pool of memories—which usually grounded him and kept him somber—seemed to shrink in depth and vastness as if they were less important than what was happening at the moment. A very strange experience for one as old as he, but he relished the lightness. If this is what it is to have mortality, then he was sad that he missed out.

Usually, people annoyed him. They had a tendency to become too involved with the importance of their day to day lives and to forsake the greater situation in favor of their small, personal gain. Most mortals have this flaw in greater or smaller doses and there have only been a few who Sevelon could tolerate for any length of time. Karigan was one of these few people. Not only could he tolerate her hanging around, but he felt some comfort in her presence. If he was brave enough to admit it to himself, he was beginning to think of her as a worthy lover. The idea of getting attached at once delighted and grieved him. Even if she would want him as anything more than a companion, what consequences would they suffer if they allowed such a link to form?

To become attached to any mortal was risky. Becoming attached to Karigan was much more risky than if she had just been a simple mortal. Sevelon kept reading the lines of fate and there was still a distinct possibility that HE would be the one to end her existence, for she was too closely linked to Mornhaven’s fate to be unaffected by his death. All romantic feelings aside, she was a good woman and to be the cause of her death would truly grieve him. If he were to become more attached (more than he already was), then her fall would be devastating for him.

His troubled thoughts would continue along this line for days, only to be broken by the times when he and Karigan would find themselves alone and talking. These were rare moments and he cherished them.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

Even with all of Alton’s people accompanying them, the group was making good time. It was only one more day of riding, and then they’d be through the castle’s gates. That evening, Karigan sat at a small fire with Estral and Sevelon. They talked companionably for a while. Well really Estral and she talked, while Sevelon stayed mostly silent. He had become much more talkative with Karigan since he’d told her about his true purpose, but he was still very silent with other people. She suspected he was afraid of messing with the natural course of events.

When Estral asked about Karigan’s love life, Sevelon very politely excused himself, saying he would leave them to their women’s talk. As he stood and walked away, Karigan’s eyes followed him.

Estral noticed this and laughed, “Well that explains things.”

“What?” Karigan looked back a bit surprised.

“Isn’t it obvious? You fancy him.”

Karigan opened her mouth to protest, but promptly shut it again. She was silent for a moment before finally saying, “Well, he is very good looking.”

Her friend laughed louder this time, “That he his.”

Karigan looked at her sharply and Estral held up her hands, “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly happy with Alton.”

Smiling to soften her previous reaction, Karigan admitted, “I think I’ll miss having him all to myself. In the castle, there is always so much to do. Plus, once we’re back he’ll be a fully trained green rider and I won’t have any excuse to hang around him.”

“I don’t think you’ll need an excuse. He seems to enjoy being with you more than anyone else.”

Wrapping her arms around her legs, Karigan starred into the dancing orange flames and let her friend’s words sink in.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

Upon arrival they were surprised to find that an unprecedented number of aristocrats had converged in Sacor City. The castle was full and the late arrivals were forced to find lodging in the city. Likewise, all the barracks were bursting, and many of the old corridors were now housing soldiers. More than ever, the Castle was now a city in its own right.

With all these nobles in residence, it was only natural for Queen Estora to throw a ball. Thinking of this, Karigan snorted. Dancing was not going to help them win any battles. Maybe the monarchs thought it would keep the nobility from thinking about the impending fight, allow them to relax and act as if their lives weren’t about to change. As she looked at the crowd of finely dressed people, she thought they were well on their way to forgetting their troubles.

Karigan truly hated these occasions. She’d rather be on a message errand, or helping the quartermaster prepare the battle uniforms, or helping the kitchens serve all these new people. She’d like to be doing anything that was remotely useful. Because of her status as Knight, she was stuck at this frivolous party. At least she had been able to obtain a proper dress, unlike the borrowed costume she wore last time. That last ball had been a masquerade and it was not a pleasant experience for this particular attendant. So far, this ball had been much less eventful.

However, she still felt safer away from the nobles who had been drinking and dancing for the last hour. Some young, drunk lord had just tried to dance with her. When he nearly spilled his drink down the front of her dress, she decided to barricade herself in this corner, far from the festivities. That is where Sevelon found her. He was dressed in a plain suit, like many of the lesser noblemen. Somehow, Karigan didn’t think he’d been invited, but that minor detail hadn’t stopped him from showing up.

“If you try a little harder, you might fade into the wall.” If anyone overheard him, they would think he was jesting.

“Sounds like a lot of effort. Will you be doing any tricks tonight?”

“Oh no, tonight I am a simple lord. Notice,” he held up his sleeve for inspection, “the cloth is nice enough, but its low quality promises little wealth. No one woman will pursue me because I’m obviously not rich, and no man will talk to me because I’m not a political adversary.” He nodded, so obviously proud of himself that she had to laugh.

He looked at her quizzically, and she informed him, “That is not why they avoid you.”

“Oh, do I still smell like horses then?”

“No more than I.” She paused to consider the true reason why people automatically avoided her companion. It was similar to how people reacted around weapons, but there was also something more. Finally she just said, “You hide it well, yet there is still an unmistakable sense that you are dangerous. You make them uncomfortable not only because you are dangerous, but also because you are unmistakably different. This is why they avoid you.”

His grey eyes looked like granite as they coolly surveyed her and once again she was reminded that this was no ordinary man, but someone who had seen civilizations rise and fall.  He kept his voice casual, “I am who I am. It is hard for me to _care_ if I make these people uncomfortable. What is important to me is that our enemy does not discover my presence until the time is right. I _care_ about little else.”

He had known so many people; it was only natural for him to be unconcerned about such things as public image. He probably didn’t care what any of the mortals thought. The idea made Karigan’s stomach twist, because he probably held her in the same regard. After all, she was only another mortal. This idea made her feel self-conscious and she didn’t know how she should respond to such a statement. For the first time ever, there was an awkward quality to the silence between them.

It took her by surprise when he spoke again, “At least I’m not the only pariah in this room.”

“What do you mean?”

“They also avoid you; at least once they know who you are.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he continued, “Tonight, there’s not been one man to approach you and I assure you this is not because you are sore on the eyes.”

Feeling slightly defensive, she recalled her earlier admirer, “There was one man...”

Sevelon cut her point short with his own argument, “Who was well into his drinks and obviously didn’t know he was handling the deadliest female in the room.” With this conclusion, his eyes twinkled merrily, as if the joke was on the unknowing man.

She just shook her head and stated, “He was in no danger.” Of all the people to tease her about being perilous, this man had the least right. They both knew who the most lethal occupant was and it most certainly wasn’t her.

 “The look on your face might have,” he paused halfway through his sentence. He tilted his head slightly and held his body very still for a moment, as if he heard something peculiar, before continuing distractedly, “suggested otherwise.” Here he paused again, before hurriedly excusing himself. Something that only he could pick up on was happening, so she let him leave without any further explanation. If he needed her to know about it, he would have said something.

The corner seemed colder once he left and Karigan occupied herself by observing the other people. However, the nobles carried on as they had before, drinking and chattering. She quickly became bored and contemplated leaving. Surely she had stayed long enough and could retire without being rude. Yes, she had endured enough. However, when she tried to push through the crowd surrounding her corner, she realized the nobles had hushed and were pointing at the top of the ballroom stairs. There stood two figures, poised to enter the room. From the gleam of their armor, they were Eletians. One turned a head in her direction, but before she could examine the face, they were lost behind the crowd. Curious, she wondered if it was anyone she’d met. Even if she didn’t know them, she would still like to talk to them. With a renewed effort, she began to squeeze through the assembled mass of nobles. No doubt they were headed towards the dais to greet their hosts, so that is where she went.

She was almost to the center of the room when she heard a rough coughing. Distracted from her goal, she turned to find an old man struggling to remain standing. He had one hand placed on a wobbling cane and the other covered his mouth as his body was wracked with each new cough. She held out a hand to steady him. When the coughing fit ceased, he turned his wrinkled face and smiled in thanks.

Assured the old man was fine, she turned, only to be shocked by the sight of a familiar figure. Ealdaen stood there, his hair and armor looking as if it had never been in the tainted, dark forest. Too surprised to think clearly, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him. There was a shocked intake of breath from the surrounding aristocracy. Despite knowing she was fuelling the court gossips, she couldn’t get herself to care enough to let go.

“You’re alive.” She whispered, relief flooding her voice. Ever since she had woken up in that graveyard, she had wondered what had happened to her fellow travelers and if all of their deaths were now on her hands. But there was at least one more that lived. Slowly, he returned her embrace.

Ealdaen said something in Eletian. It roughly translated it to, “Young One, the sight of you gladdens my heart.”

She smiled sheepishly, glad he wasn’t going to reprimand her for her impulsive human behavior. Aeryc knows she had just hugged someone who had been alive longer than Sacor City itself. Even if he didn’t look any older than King Zachary, she knew he had fought during the Long War.

 A throat cleared. Karigan looked up to see that Sevelon had finally returned. He took in the scene of her hugging the Eletian, face indecipherable. She stepped out of Ealdaen’s arms to introduce the two men. Sevelon surprised both of them by touching his hand to his forehead and giving what she knew to be a traditional Eletian greeting. At this, Ealdaen looked almost excited and began to talk in Eltish.

“It has been many centuries…” Was all Karigan could understand of Ealdaen’s response. The rest of their conversation was spoken too quickly for her to follow. However, she did notice that her name was mentioned several times. Her understanding of the language was rough at best, but she still enjoyed listening to the words. They sounded like water flowing over rocks; both strange and peaceful. Eventually a young Eletian came to retrieve Ealdaen. Before he left, he promised Karigan that she would see him again soon, but did not further elaborate.

Sevelon’s voice drifted into her thoughts, “There are not many who command such respect from an Eletian, and that one seems rather fond of you.”

She looked at him, unsure if he was insinuating something. For the second time that night, she felt oddly defensive. “He is a good man.” Person. Eletian. Her thoughts stumbled.

“Oh, he undoubtedly is.” he looked down at her, “He would be lucky to have you.”

So unexpected, the comment took away all of her previous fire and left Karigan silent, searching his face.

She finally asked, “Where did you learn to speak Eltish?”

He laughed at her evasion of the topic. As if the question wasn’t even worth answering, he suddenly asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Hell no, but that was hardly an appropriate response with all of Sacoridia’s nobility in hearing range. “I, uh…” She never knew how to respond to such situations.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o*o

 

He liked to see her flustered. When she fumbled with her response, he merely held out his hand. She looked very reluctant. She reminded him of the wild mares who once roamed these lands freely in grand herds. During his mortal existence, he’d been quite good at catching them. As with them, he used that same calming tone with her now, “All is well.” His voice lowered so only she could hear, “We can leave the moment you feel uncomfortable.” A minute longer, and then almost as if she wasn’t sure why she was allowing this, she put her hand in his.

The dance was simple and the moment he had her in his arms, they were twirling with the rest.

Sevelon thought about his dancing partner. Her footwork was fantastic; the mark of a true swordswoman. Yet, she seemed easily disoriented with someone else controlling her movements. Her mind was second-guessing her body’s instincts. She would be better at following his movements if her mind was more distracted.

“Have you ever danced under the open night’s sky?”

“Do you include fighting?” Because honestly, that is the most personal contact she’s ever had with another human being at night, indoors or out.

Now that he had her attention, her body responded much better to his. Just to keep her mind off the dance, he asked, “Was it romantic?”

She knew true masters of the blade who moved as music in motion, but she’d never had such a graceful clash with any opponent. “How does a sword fight move from being deadly to passionate?”

It was too tempting. He hadn’t used any of his true power while in this place, and this woman was all but begging him to show her something. When he next twirled her, he stopped the motion so her back was pressed to his front. He didn’t release her. The other people continued to dance, he made sure no one noticed the suddenly motionless pair.

Tilting his mouth towards her ear, he began to speak. “To be leagues from any other soul…” He leached some of his power outwards. The people around them began to slow, until they almost weren’t moving at all. He felt Karigan tense against his chest, she knew he was up to something, but she didn’t protest, so he continued. “In peace and seclusion…” Then the ballroom began to fade away, the crowd transformed into tall grass with the walls morphing into a perimeter of giant pine trees.  When the transformation to a meadow was complete and they were well and truly miles away from Sacor City, he released her. He was afraid she would feel trapped. Her shoulders were very still, the normal rise and fall that indicated breathing had ceased.

Suddenly uncertain, he stepped back and stuffed fisted hands into his pockets. He watched her motionless form, wary of what her response would be. It had been a thousand years since he had showed off to impress a lady; that was the first time and last time. It had only been a small trick, and the woman had looked at him as if he was something spawned straight from the underworld. All the trepidation of that experience came back as he cautiously watched Karigan’s back.

When her shoulders loosened and began to move in a normal pattern. Only then did he allow himself to breathe again. He watched as she lifted her arms above her head and twirled, face up to the sky and spilling out laughter. Eyes bright with excitement, she went to explore her surroundings.

He followed her as she wandered towards the tree line, noticing how her right hand brushed the grass as she passed. He had never seen her so carefree. The sight warmed his chest and he would be willing to waste much more power to keep her so happy.

She stopped at the base of a tree to watch a squirrel climb across the branches above. “Is this what constellations do when they are bored?”

 He kept moving forward until he was standing next to her. Head tilted up to watch the bushy red squirrel, he honestly answered, “I have not been bored since I met you.” He knew she had no skill at accepting complements, so he continued, “want to sword fight?”

She had to pause, “Um…sure.”

“Would you prefer a long sword or a saber?”

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile, and she stated, “Saber.”

Going to a nearby tree and breaking off two appropriate branches. It was much easier to work with existing objects, rather than creating things from thin air. He walked back to her with two swords and handed the shorter one to her. 

He watched Karigan examine the sharp edge and he asked, “Ready?”

Instead of answering, she leapt at him. He blocked her, unable to help from chuckling. He had watched her work with that brute of a swordmaster and it was no doubt that she didn’t want to give him time to rest or gain any advantage. Her body moved as if it was built for this. He picked up the pace and waited until her muscles were warmed up, then he moved her closer to a tree and pinned her saber above her head. With his body, he pressed her into the bark and continued with their conversation from the ballroom. Challenging her, “Could it be deadly and passionate?”

He watched her face flush as she admitted, “Yes, it could.”

He felt his body stirring in response to her and he had to make an effort to calm himself.  In all honesty, he was ecstatic that his little demonstration had worked so well, but he knew he shouldn’t continue with this. Shifting his hold on her, he gently guided both of their swords until they were hanging point down. “Come, I should return you to the castle.”

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

She stood there, sword hanging uselessly at her side. Watching him walk away and feeling the immediate chill and loneliness at the loss of his presence.

“Wait.” Karigan called out to him. She dropped the saber near the tree and followed quickly in his wake. She caught up to him in the grass and grabbed his hand. “What if I don’t want to leave?”

“Once justice has been served, my task will be done and I will have to leave this place.” He had told her this before. When she continued to stand her ground, he went on, “If we stay here, we endanger your honor. If things were to escalade, your reputation would be tarnished.”

She was grateful that he was such a gentleman. Still, she found his tendency to assume things about her to be very annoying. She questioned, “How do you know it hasn’t been already?” For all he knew, she could have slept with any number of men before he showed up.

From his look, he clearly thought she was joking. When her face remained impassive, he turned serious.

She watched as he walked closer. Keeping his eye contact, she felt his hands rest on her hips and she allowed herself to be pushed to the ground. His sword hand remained on her hip, while the other stroked her hair. He leaned in to kiss her. His kisses started off soft and grew in intensity, until her entire body was warm and tingling. When his lips trailed down her neck, she shivered. After another kiss, his lips lingered over hers as if he was deciding something.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the waist and rolled so she was on top of him. His eyes twinkled as he said, “If you want to stay here, fine. But I’m still not taking your maidenhood.”

Resting her head on his chest, she began to question, “How…”

Before she could ask, he shushed her. “I knew the moment I met you. Power feels unique on each person due to the combination of their individual characteristics, and it was very obvious that you remained untouched. Even if I hadn’t known that, you are hardly the castle harlot.”

 

**Chapter 11**

**“There is a tide in the affairs of men.”—Brutus, Julius Caesar, Shakespeare** (Basically saying you should go with the flow of power when it presents favorable, because your enemy will only get stronger.)

Zachary sat with his head bent towards his top generals, discussing what they might expect when the confrontation with Mornhaven arrived and planning what they could reasonably do to defend themselves and the rest of the country. They had done this so many times, it was almost becoming repetitive.

A nock sounded on the door and a young admiral was ushered inside. He gave a smart salute then reported, “Your Highness, our intelligence shows Birch is moving his force south.”

Much of Birch’s force had been killed earlier this spring when they’d led him into a trap, but he’d been recruiting. Unfortunately, he’d been rather successful at it. There were many people who were unhappy with their current lot in life and thought that by supporting a new government, they may be able to improve their lives or at least make the world better for their children. This utopia would never happen under Mornhaven, but those people didn’t know who Second Empire was hoping to put on the throne. If they succeeded, he wouldn’t be king. Mornhaven would be emperor. From their past reports, they knew that Birch had threatened the Rhovan monarchs and scared them into signing a blood contract. They had refused to help the Second Empire, but they also were too scarred of Mornhaven’s return to offer support to Sacoridia.

Zachary and all the people closest to him knew Birch’s attack was imminent, they just didn’t know when it would come. The royal army was all being housed in Sacor City or the surrounding areas and the province troops had been stationed nearby, so they could march within two days notice. They had prepared the castle as much as could be done. It was ready for a siege, Zachary just hoped it would withstand everything they expected to face.

“Do you know his intent?”

“It is unclear.” Here the admiral hesitated, before continuing, “I believe he may be moving to attack Sacor City.”

“Explain.” Zachary encouraged the young officer.

“He is skirting major settlements, but not making an effort to conceal his movements.”

“Do you think they mean to take a final stand?”

The admiral nodded, “Or at least stage a major battle. From what we can tell, their force grows daily.”

King Zachary excused the young man, allowing the admiral to make another salute and turn sharply on his heels. His advisors remained quiet and waited for their king to make the next move. Zachary sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought. It was very unlikely that his enemy would become any weaker. Rather, time would just allow Mornhaven to regain his former strength and for Birch to recruit more troops.

Turning to his generals, Zachary ordered, “Call in the Provence troops.” And to Lauren he stated, “We are going to war. The citizens will need to be warned.”

 

 

 

 

**Chapter 12**

**“Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth”—Lysander, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare**

It was mid-afternoon when all the riders (that were still in the city) were called to the common room. Captain Mapstone, bluntly stated that they were at war and updated them on the situation, saying every rider available was needed to inform the citizens. At the pace the opposition was marching, Birch and his army would be there in two days. A few riders were assigned to the village outside the city walls to inform everyone that they’d be offered free lodging within the walls until the conflict was over and that some army men would be there the next day to help them move out. The rest of the riders were each assigned a sector of the lower city and ordered to go to as many taverns, inns, and homes as they could. The purpose was to reduce panic and to give a set of instructions for each family to do. Things like gathering water and bandages for their home.

After they received their orders, everyone quickly dispersed. Karigan and Sevelon hung behind a moment so they could walk out together. Both lost in their thoughts they were quiet until they reached the Castle gates, then they had to part ways. Before he left, Sevelon grabbed Karigan’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

The rest of the day, Karigan went to every tavern, pub, inn, and store that was open, and when that was done, she went to some homes. At each, she recited the speech that she’d been given about staying indoors and storing up on provisions. It went fairly quick, but there were so many residences, that by the time she felt that she’d talked to most of them it was past dinner time and her throat was raw from talking.

Despite Sevelon’s reassurance, she had an ominous feeling of the approaching events. As the day wore on and this dreadful feeling didn’t pass, she had to ask herself, _Is it was possible that people know when they are about to die?_ Karigan hoped this was not what she was sensing. It felt as if some pressure was building. You could feel it in the land and it seemed to parallel the feeling of expectation within herself. Something was coming like a storm brewing in the distance, and it wasn’t Birch. No, it had the taint of Mornhaven. Like an animal that senses danger, she felt the urge to run. Only there was nowhere to go. Whatever storm was coming, she knew she had a part to play. Thinking of it made her uneasy. It was like watching a clock run down to a certain hour, to when all their fates would clash and at which time the world would erupt into chaos. Deep in the murkiest depth of herself, Karigan knew she wouldn’t survive this final clash. She wanted to live so badly, to continue on and to be happy and to someday have a family. She was driven and spirited, but she didn’t think that would save her this time. Twice she had met Mornhaven and barely escaped. She didn’t feel she would survive a third such confrontation. It was as if he had left his mark on her and she couldn’t shake him no matter how determined she may be. For better or worse, if ever his end was to come, then she would most assuredly be a part of it.

 

o*o*o*o*o*o

 

Late the next night, they stood on the wall, surveying the army gathering in the field beyond the city. The fires that had been lit earlier in the evening were now dying down and provided just enough light. The villagers from the outskirts of the city had been moved in and the troops had been moved out. There were enough Sacoridian troops left inside the city to hold a strong defense, in the chance that the cavalry and infantry were slaughtered. Birch would attack in the morning.

Everything that had happened to Karigan in the past few years came down to this moment. She also knew this was the true reason for Sevelon’s presence. Standing at her side, he felt like a sturdy wall. She was relieved to have him here for this moment. If he was here, she wouldn’t have to face Mornhaven alone. It was bittersweet knowledge, because she knew his purpose would be complete after Mornhaven was dead and then he’d return to where he came from. Even if she survived the coming battle, he would be gone. She felt like pleading and crying. If only he would ask the gods, they might find a reason for him to stay. They had already talked about this. He had to leave and she had to stop being so emotional, it wasn’t going to help. Not allowing herself to break down, she kept her face turned towards the gathering armies as she said, “You’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yes, when my task is complete, I must leave. It is interesting,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “Mornhaven has been hoarding power for centuries, but with that mask, he had unlimited possibility at his fingertips. No one is just born into that kind of power, it must be earned. It is the oldest of laws. When he tried to gain that power through coercing you, he irrevocably crossed that line.”

She remembered how Mornhaven used Yates by disfiguring his face with uncharacteristic rage and commanding her to hand over that mask.

Sevelon continued on, “To drag such attention to himself was probably Mornhaven’s biggest mistake. If he had only tried to assert himself in the mortal realms, the gods would have ignored him. Yet, he has persisted. Aeryc and Aeryon now have no option but to deal out their justice. Essentially, he’s doomed himself.”

She went to bed that night thinking of his words, knowing that within the next 24 hours, everything would change.

The following morning came with a cold, sharp wind. It stirred the grass of the field and ruffled the clothing of the numerous platoons gathered in the clearing. Eletian flanks stood side by side with Sacoridian soldiers and the provincial militias. Thousands formed into spanning lines, their contrasting uniforms formed a pattern.

 

 

 

**Chapter 13**

**“Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once.”—Julius Caesar, Shakespeare**   (Where Caesar knows he can’t avoid death and encourages his wife with these words. He doesn’t understand why men fear death so much, when death is inevitable in every man’s life. His life has been full of strength and bravery, and he will not waste his last precious hours of life anticipating tragedy.)

Red hair tied to the top of her head like an angry beacon, Captain Mapstone led a small group of her riders to their position on the field. Only the riders who were proficient in the sword were allowed to join, because they had the best chances of survival. In this battle, they would act as a unit of the Light Cavalry.

Sevelon and Karigan rode next to each other. They had talked long into the night and now they were quiet, each preparing themselves for the fight to come. After they were in formation, Karigan surveyed the troops around her. Some of the riders were scared, but just as many wore looks of fierce determination. It wasn’t just their duty. This threat to Sacoridia seemed more personal. They had all suffered losses due to groundmite and Second Empire attacks, and they were ready to meet Birch’s troops in the field. Their unit was flanked by the King’s Light Horse regiment and beyond them Karigan could see the gleam of Eletian armor. The sight made her breathe a little easier. The _tiendan_ were not to be taken lightly. Battle horns started to blow, signifying the battle’s beginning. As the last horn rang loud and ominous, Karigan’s eyes found Ealdaen. He met her gaze and nodded. Let it begin.

The first charge was a mass of bodies. It was a shock at first, but Karigan soon found herself making a rhythm out of it. She focused on the immediate threat and when that was no longer an issue, she raised her sword to the next opponent. It was messy and she didn’t feel any retribution or satisfaction when she overcame an opponent. She just moved on to the next one. She lost track of the time and the numbers, their faces all blurring in her memory.

An attack of groundmites and catamounts on the left flank was a surprise to everyone and it took out a huge section of soldiers. Of all the people imaginable, it was Timas Mirwell who led a group of provincial soldiers to reinforce against the surprise attack; with that action, Timas redeemed himself in Karigan’s mind.

It was Birch’s third wave of attack that hit her unit hard. The speed and severity of the onrush fractured their group into separate fighting circles. It was then, Karigan found herself isolated in a sea of unfriendly uniforms. Sevelon and her fellow riders were far away and Karigan found herself fighting for her life.

Fighting hard to get to the nearest group of riders, she didn’t see the groundmites heading her way until she was pulled out of her saddle. Condor reared to her defense and smashed in quite a few heads before he was stabbed with a crude blade. Furious, Karigan bellowed and jumped at the vile creature. Blind with fury and hurt, she took off his head. She didn’t stop. After that corpse fell headless to the ground, she slashed and stabbed at each unfriendly uniformed body that came her way. Disoriented and not really aware where she was going, she just picked a direction and began paving her way through.

She could feel the change in the people around her, and there was a pressure building. Suddenly, the battlefield was quiet and still.

“Hello Karigan.” The familiar voice carried over the misty battlefield.

She turned to see Yates standing a few paces behind her. Only it wasn’t him. His features were too dark and angular. His gaze was imperial and sharp. He looked much more like the man from the Arcosian courtyard. There was no struggle for dominance within the face of her friend and Karigan knew Yates was dead, even if his body wasn’t.

He raised his hand and she felt her sword handle grow warmer, until it was hot. Her gloves made it bearable at first, but it quickly grew to be too much. Still she tried to hold on, but when the handle started to melt she had to let go. Her hand continued to burn after it met the cold air.

He entered her mind and beckoned for her to come. With this intrusion, she felt an automatic twinge of revulsion. She resolutely refused his beckoning.

 _Alessandros_ , as he liked to personally identify with her, strengthened his hold on her mind and silently persuaded her. “ _Your horse isn’t dead yet you know. He could still be saved_.”

“ _Lie,”_ she thought, knowing he would hear. She knew it couldn’t be true, she’d seen Condor fall.

He tutted in admonishment and continued in the silence of her mind, “ _Aren’t you sick of seeing your people die? Think of all the spouses and children you could save from misery, if you ended this conflict_.”

“ _This would not stop with me. We are determined._ ” She staunchly told him.

Then he laughed outright. Amused, but tired of her resistance, he commanded “COME.” His voice was powerful and not directed at her mind, but rather her body. To her dismay, her feet lifted several feet off the ground and she floated towards him. She could feel his mirth in her mind. “ _Oh Kari_ ,” he said affectionately, “ _how you resemble Hadriax. I am relieved to have you back as my companion_.” She thought he must be mad, and this thought only made him chuckle again. Saying, “ _No Kari, I am quite reasonable_.”

Out loud he explained in a carrying voice, as if he were in front of a court and wanted all of his subjects to know the good news. “You see, when I became emperor of this land, there will only be two noble bloodlines.” He smiled at the people around him, and they stared back with awe and horror-stricken faces. “This is why your very own Karigan el Fex and I are to be married; a joining of these two old kingdoms to form one undefeatable empire!” There was fire in his eyes, similar to when he asked for the mask. He turned his gaze up to the still floating Karigan and tenderly stroked her cheek.

“When we are done, we will be gods.” His words were disturbing, because they had a ring of truth to them. If Mornhaven did get such a foothold and resource base, he would not stop until he had complete and unchallenged control.

She remembered Sevelon’s words and fought to get them out of her mouth. “You are not born to such power. You must earn it.”

His anger was immediate and burned like a slap to her mind, trying to silence her. It made her flinch in the air. Still floating above him, he grabbed her neck roughly. The temporary sweetness that had coated his tongue was now gone and his words were sinister, “I can control your body.” He leered at her, “No matter how rebellious you are, your mind will eventually break.”

“MORNHAVEN!!” The call boomed long and loud through the field. She felt his hand tremble as if he’d just been physically struck, but his hold remained firm.

“MORNHAVEN!!” This time it was closer and Karigan felt the sound’s power reverberate through her body. It was unmistakably Sevelon’s voice, tolling out a final warning. She thought this and then consciously sent Mornhaven the silent message, “ _Your end is coming._ ” In response, he snarled and increased his grip to press on her windpipe.

Then Sevelon was there. He still wore his uniform, but from the waves of distortion showing in the air, it was obvious he was too powerful to be an actual green rider. No human could radiate such energy. Calmly, he stated, “YOU WILL CEASE.”

Still holding her above him, Mornhaven turned and sneered at the threat, “I’ve seen you in her mind. After millennia over millennia, you’ve finally found someone you care for. Such a tragedy that she’s a mortal.” With this, his hold tightened into a death grip and she began struggling violently for air.

“We are linked, she and I. If I die, she dies.”

 Despite her struggle, she heard his mocking words and Karigan wanted to laugh. If she could have made the choice, she would have sacrificed herself to kill Mornhaven long ago. She could feel the pressure building in her head and she was beginning to black out. This was it. Searching for Sevelon, she met his hesitant eyes. She wanted to tell him that she understood. She understood how he felt for her, but that he had his duty. That he needed to do this for the good of her people. That she was willing to die and held no grudge against his role in her death. For hadn’t she always known that she would die fighting Mornhaven?

Unable to let out any more breath, all she could do was try to smile and nod reassuringly. Then there was an explosion of noise and chaos, as if the world had just fallen apart. And everything went black.

 

**Chapter 14**

**“A hero is one who knows how to hang on one minute longer.”—Novalis**

He knew Mornhaven was telling the truth. A month ago, when he’d grabbed her hand behind the stable, he’d felt that hazardous connection to this evil man. Since then, Sevelon had known that she might have to die at his hands.

Regardless of what happened with Mornhaven, she was a mortal and would eventually die. Even knowing this, he had allowed himself to begin to care for this incredible woman. Somehow she had managed to creep into his feelings and take root there. He had allowed himself to become fond of her laugh, to take pleasure in her company, to let her spirit excite him about life. Now on this battlefield, he could only look at her with sorrow. He wanted anything but to do this. She hung there above Mornhaven, feet no longer kicking, face blue and throat strained while she tried to gasp for air.

Aeryc and Aeryon had sent him here for this reason and he knew what was needed. Mornhaven’s power was far enough developed, that Sevelon would be required to dismantle the most elemental base of his being, in order to truly end his existence. Speaking the words only understood by creators, he announced, “ALESSANDROS DEL MORNHAVEN.” The air around the two people began to swirl and break with energy. He looked one last time at Karigan. Her face was drooping, but her gaze was steady and she nodded her head, telling him to do it.

He had no choice, he had to end this. He brought the full force of his energy up and channeled it to Mornhaven through his ancient words, “YOU ARE NO MORE.”

The bolts zoomed in close to Mornhaven. Energy continued to build within and around him, and then when the pressure was too much, everything was released. Sevelon stood, ignoring the maelstrom he’d created. He couldn’t look away from Karigan. He watched her body react to the shattering of Mornhaven. All kinds of emotion drained from his mind as Sevelon was forced to watch the person he loved die. He did not have the power to create or maintain life. He only had the power to destroy it.

For the surrounding mortals, this whole procedure would take up less time than an eye blink, but Sevelon had the ability to stand in this moment indefinitely. He would stand here for years and watch the pandemonium. Energy and particles sped out, trying to find a new home. Attaching and breaking infinitesimal connections.

In this moment of chaos, Aeryon appeared.

The goddess confided, “I enjoy moments of remaking.” She stood next to her servant, watching the bursts of energy and the random realignment of the immediate space. Such things happened too quick for the mortals to see, they would never know how Mornhaven had imploded. They would never find a body. Breaking up his monotone thoughts, Aeryon glibly continued, “I think you will like your reward.” She sounded very pleased with herself and Sevelon knew some intrigue was behind the promised reward. However, he was too empty and numb to feel the reluctance he knew such a statement (especially from this goddess) should conjure.

She knew he would think the worst of her and admitted, “It of course has a double purpose. I’ve owed Westrion a slip for eons, only I’ve never had a reason to give it to him until now.” With this, she walked into the streaming energy and gathered Karigan. Cradling the woman in her arms, the goddess gave Karigan a tender kiss on the forehead. The resulting spark was as gentle as sunlight filtering through a forest and only lasted a moment.

When she handed Karigan to Sevelon, he was shocked to feel her breathing against his chest. He had not expected this.

Her amusement was bright hot, similar to the suns she watched over. “Westrion will be also be very pleased that his favorite tool is back in commission. When you two are done playing mortal, we’ll come collect you.” And with a flash of a smile, Aeryon disappeared.

Still shocked at the unpredicted turn of events, he let them re-enter mortal time. The particles began to settle and the humans started shuffling with awareness that something major had just happened. 

The woman in his arms croaked, “Sevelon?”

“Yes Karigan?”

“Did you do it?”

He began walking, everyone moving automatically out of his way. Now that his mission was accomplished, he no longer cared that they should see him as a mortal.

“Yes, it is over.”

She paused to think and then stated, “I’m not dead.” She sounded tired and maybe a little bit confused.

It was too funny and his great bellow of laughter drew even more attention from the surrounding soldiers. Finally he said, “Just be happy the gods favor you.”

She wasn’t fully alert yet and asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Right here and starring at us. Don’t look.” Her face turned beat red, but she obediently kept her eyes shut.

 

**Epilogue**

**“Remember kid, there’s heroes and there’s legends. Heroes get remembered, but legends never die, follow your heart kid and you’ll never go wrong”—The Babe, Sandlot**

The old minstrel was now smiling. She always loved telling this tale.

“… _Later, people would say their Knight of the Realm had been carried off by a glowing figure. When the information was leaked that he was an immortal and had been living with them for over a month, the castle gossips couldn’t talk of anything else._ ”

“Lady Estral”, the nursemaid’s voice brakes into the old woman’s tale.

The aged minstrel looks up at the intrusion, “Yes Catherine, what is it?”

“My Lady, it is nearly midnight, the young master must be to his bed.”

Startled by how late it is, Estral looks at her youngest grandson, who is valiantly trying not to fall off his chair. She smiled as his tired eyes met hers, “Go to bed child.”

His nursemaid leads him to the door, but as she opens it he turns back to his grandmother, a question on his lips. “Grandmother, did Sevelon go back to the stars then?”

She knew he would be thinking of this story for days and it made her eyes twinkle with happiness. Now there is another person to remember her friend. “Yes, he went back and Karigan went with him.”

 

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the Karigan/Sevelon pairing as much as I did. If you ever want to discuss Green Rider or other fantasy works, just send me a message!**


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